


Blood Stained Cherry Blossom Petals

by Ayra_Chan, InsertACatchyPennameHere



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Revolution, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hamilton AU, Hamilton Mulan AU, Intimate Platonic Relationships, M/M, Mulan AU, Multi, War Hero Eliza, depictions of war, these children deserve the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayra_Chan/pseuds/Ayra_Chan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertACatchyPennameHere/pseuds/InsertACatchyPennameHere
Summary: When the call to the American Revolution is too desperate to be voluntary anymore, Elizabeth Schuyler steps up to take her father's place and spare her family in more ways than one. Though no war can be fought alone and the stakes only rise the longer the battle for American independence wages on, she has made a solemn vow to be willing to die for their young country, and many relationships are formed, strengthened, weakened and lost throughout the horrors of war. Triumphant is never easy, but neither is the young, scrappy country and especially relentless is Eliza. ***Mulan AU***





	1. Budding

**Author's Note:**

> ***This is a re-upload; nothing story content wise has changed. Thanks to the system's system with accidentally added co-creators, this work got deleted. I am still not pleased, but I would very much appreciate all the outward support you're compelled to give in wake of this unfortunate event.***
> 
> Greetings, guys, gals, and non-binary pals! This is my dearest Amanda and I's shot (heh) at a Mulan AU, one that we have been discussing quite in depth. As for the historical inaccuracies (like the fact cherry trees weren't in the USA until around 1912, according to some research), I ask that you forgive them considering that this IS a AU, and an AU that we've been working really hard on. Please feel free to head over to our Tumblr Ask blog, where she'll be doing character concept art and we'll be answering questions in and out of character for this story, and don't forget to support the human being writing the story itself (oh snap, that's me).
> 
> Without any further adieu, enjoy! ♥

Memorizing the material was not the issue; rather, it was the potential for who the product of this affair would prove to be. The prospect kept Elizabeth Schuyler restless for the fortnight proceeding the Union Exam, and as she lay in her spacious bed with the ideas of who she’d soon be wedding looming over her head, she couldn’t help but force tears behind her eyelids.

Surely her husband would not be a bad man; after all, only the wealthiest, most privileged and sociologically deserving of the young colonies-fighting-to-become-country would be allowed in their candidate pool. Despite the union being a formal affair that had very little deviation from the events that took place publicly, her parents would still have to approve the marriage, so even in the event he was awful she would still have potential redemption.

“Unable to find the elusive ‘sleep’?” Her closest in age younger sister whispered from the doorway, breaking up her frantic thoughts and not alarming her to the degree it normally would within such an early hour.

“Indeed,” Eliza admitted with a soft sigh. “Won’t you join me, dear sister? I need companionship before I am sent off to a new life with a gentleman I may not even love.”

“Such grim talk for a theoretically happy occasion,” Peggy noted as her feet pad against the cool floor, her curvier frame easily fitting around that of her beloved sibling with the same familiar adjustments they’d learned from a lifetime of being tightly knit. “Are you that reluctant? They cannot make you go if you openly refuse, you know.”

“And risk the possibility of being disowned or being matched with some random rich man against my genuine will, or even God forbid a family member?” The older of the two immediately grunted and rolled closer to her sister’s warmth. “I think not, little one.”

“I’m not so little anymore,” the younger protested sleepily.

“You are little enough to be exempt from Mother’s reign,” Eliza reminded, not unkindly.

She did prefer it this way, at any rate. Catherine Schuyler had been insistent that her three eldest children, her eligible daughters, go to the examination and ceremony as one tightly bonded unit to ensure the best results and to inflate the reputation of their remarkable family. It had been their father, the much beloved and visibly aging Phillip Schuyler, that swayed his wife into allowing the freshly eighteen Peggy to wait another year or so before she followed in her sisters’ footsteps or wed by her own resourcefulness. For the twenty year old Angelica and nineteen year old Elizabeth, however, there was no budging the strict old woman, and thus they’d found themselves prepped, taught, conditioned and endlessly scolded upon every little imperfection until the night before the current day’s dawn.

 _Men don’t like a woman with a sharp tongue,_ they’d both been told while their mother struck their hands or seized their hair unforgivingly.  _You must work quietly and diligently. Don’t you dare think about dressing so plainly around anyone you expect to make children with._

Of course, she’d already made up her mind even before the especially cruel treatment began. She would never go through with the union of a person who did not love and respect her completely, not even to appease her mother, and she’d almost immediately divorce and estrange from her female parent if his tendencies forced themselves outside the realms of her consent or comfortability. Regardless, her heart still fluttered painfully against her chest as her sibling fell back asleep and she was left with only her thoughts until she heard the familiar rhythm of her father’s footsteps through the hallways.

“Good morning, Papa,” she greeted politely, her shawls falling all around her thick winter shift as she made her way to the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

“I should ask quite the same of you,” he mused with a welcoming smile. “You look as though you have been of waking world for quite some time.”

“Despite my best attempts, you are not wrong,” she admitted with a tired sigh. “I did rest for most of the nighttime, but I have opened my eyes before the dawn more often than not recently. It cannot be helped.”

Her father smiled knowingly and began to brew their morning tea. “There are always natural sleep remedies if you seek them. Please notify me next time you’re having a hard time sleeping; I believe that is something passed down from myself.”

“How dare you,” she teased, earning a affectionate laugh and reassuring hand squeeze from her papa.

It was not much longer before the sun was rising slowly in the sky and the familiar sounds of their large family filled their home. The eldest teenager found herself relaxing in the routine of the morning, helping to feed and clean up her siblings while she hummed or made pleasant jokes and told stories with her older family members. It wasn’t until she was heading to clean off the plates that she was halted by her mother’s grasp on her dress, a gesture that alarmed her enough to make her outwardly gasp; she scolded herself internally for showing such a sign of weakness before her powerhouse of a parent.

“Darling, you surely don’t think you’ll be doing such peasant work, especially not on a day like today!” As she turned around, she was slightly disgusted to see the amount of age-reducing makeup and fanciful decorations adorning her mother along with her nicest clothing. “Leave that to the household help and get yourself into the bath house!”

She didn’t have to be told twice, swiftly gathering all the materials she’d need to bathe and rushing out to no doubt meet her older sister. Angelica pulled her into a tight hug the second she stepped in, her own gaze somber but overall resigned in its stress.

“It will be alright, Liza,” her beloved eldest sister murmured comfortingly as they held each other as though they were the only glue keeping themselves whole. “Mother has blown this into a proportion that it cannot realistically be, and they’ll have to go through me to wed you to someone who will not make you happy.”

“You’ve said yourself joy is not inherent, only satisfaction,” the younger whispered back, and though she’d reply differently, she did not miss the slight hitch in comforter’s breath or the tensing in her front.

“That is only in my case. It is not law,” Angelica replied as she pulled back to smile at her. “Now, let’s get clean before the water cools.”

Eliza spent more time in the basin than she normally would for more reason than one. For one, the fire heated water was a welcome contrast to the general chill of the early spring, and she was able to smooth, prod at and scrub away every imperfection that she made her feel dirty most of the week. The occasion also called for her attention to detail on herself, so she was even able to change the tub with a fresh load of water without being punished for it; she took this opportunity to scrub and clean her hair until it was smooth, silky and failing down her back in soaked waves. Angelica, of course, primped herself well but didn’t take near the time, saying she had to worry more about the makeup before hurrying into the unpleasant, starkly cold space between the bathing quarters and their home.

“Pale as a flower,” she murmured to herself as she gazed into the looking glass once she made her back into her own room. “Does the matchmaker wish to have a porcelain doll or a human being?”

Regardless of the churning feeling of reluctance in her stomach, she stroked and painted her face until it looked exactly as her mother had taught to during their dozens upon dozens of practice sessions. Even with all the paints, creams and powder meticulously applied, she still felt she looked more like a spirit than a person with eyelids that resembled rust and eye shapes that were so styled to look like almonds that she felt she looked like some horrendous fox-person hybrid. Regardless of all of this, she knew Mother’s wrath was worse than her discomfort and kept this in mind as she pinned her hair back underneath a brand new powdered wig that felt heavy on her scalp and shed fibers before her vision. The final piece was another freshly sewn dress, one with seven hoops and that was a painfully gaudy silver, one that she required two sets of extra hands to slip on. As Angie fastened her in, she couldn’t help but be jealous of how eloquently her senior looked in her carefully dyed golden and pink gown, skillfully dabbed makeup and well-groomed wig; women like her were meant for pleasantries and cordial unions for perfect ladies and gentleman, not women like herself who liked to get dirty and preferred comfortable, casual one pieces to corsets and jewelry.

“My baby girls are all grown up!” Mother lamented before pulling them both into a hug so heartfelt, Eliza feared her hard work would be wiped right off (which would mean she didn’t have to wear it for time constraints, pray it be.) “Now, don’t you forget what I taught you! Say to me your response to what is expected of a proper wife!”

As she recited the words drilled into her head with her sibling, the middle sister could not help but wonder how Mother had come to such nasty conclusions when Papa was the model loving, supportive husband regardless of these empty promises. “A woman’s place is with round stomach and warm heart. She is to tend to every need of her husband before every wish of her own, but is not to be so off putting to not be seen in public. She is beautiful, silent, forgiving, and loyal to the point of death before betrayal. These things, Madame, are all characteristics of myself until death shall I part from my beloved.”

To seemingly add insult to injury, Mother immediately wiped an imaginary tear from her eye before taking their hands firmly between her own. “My girls, you make me too proud for words. Now, run along for your carriage; the coachmen shan’t wait for any of your dawdling about!”

“Elizabeth,” her female parent quipped before she could flee to the safety of the front foyer. “Do remember what I taught you. If your pretty brown eyes roll any further back when you assume I’m not looking, you’ll be blind and homeless before you’ve had the chance to retrieve your things.”

“Yes Mama,” she replied in an empty tone, curtsying politely before rushing all the way to where her siblings were all gathered in excitement.

As she entered and scooped up little Cornelia, Angelica gave her a sympathetic smile. “Pay no mind to her, Betsey. She only wants what is best for us, but that does not mean she is always right.”

She did love her mother quite a lot, Eliza affirmed in the privacy of her thoughts as she straightened her youngest sister’s gown. It was no secret Catherine Schuyler was strict and that her old age had sucked most of her joy dry, but she was still attentive and did her best for the interest of her offspring. If it meant sacrificing her life, the young woman knew Mother wouldn’t hesitate, but it also meant she’d stop at nothing to do everything she was capable of to see them into a future she saw fit. For all of her masked compassion and somber affection, there was no point resisting their futures, but she couldn’t play along quite as well as her older sister and younger siblings- save her rebellious Peggy, of course-always had. Truth be known, she was not sure where she’d be had she not been blessed with such a devout older Irish triplet and equally open minded younger Irish triplet, and for that she clung to them as the women she cared for the complete opinion of.

“So what’s his name??” Little Rensselaer, the youngest of her brothers at the tender age of three, chirped excitedly while carefully grabbing at Angelica’s skirts. “Does he like boats??!”

“I haven’t met him yet, but I will soon!” The eldest sibling said gently while gently picking him up long enough to spin him around before setting him on the couch. “Worry not, that will be the first question I ask him!”

The toddler giggled excitedly as Phillip Jeremiah sighed and studied his hands. “Does this mean you won’t come over to play, Betsey??”

“Of course not! I’ll be over here to play with you every chance I get!” Eliza exclaimed before giving him a gentle kiss to the cheek. “No matter what husband I’m given, you boys will always be my #1 men!”

“Can’t all be #1, though! Teacher said we can’t!” John gasped with a horrified expression.

“Just because Teacher says it doesn’t make it law!” The nineteen year old exclaimed with a mischievous grin as the boys giggled at her scandalous comment; her own teacher was overcharging gentleman who hadn’t the slightest clue how to teach young ladies properly, so she’d carried this philosophy through much of her life to keep her sharp wits about her.

“The carriage is here!” John exclaimed post looking out the window. “Go on, you gotta go now or you’ll miss everything!”

“We’ll see you at the ceremony!” Eliza called as Angelica swiftly took baby Cornelia from her and handed her off to Peggy before rushing her out of the door. “Be good, I love you lots!”

The chorus of ‘Love you more!”s were enough to keep her spirits high until she was properly loaded and forced to face the reality rapidly dawning upon her. Even her bold, man-crushing Angelica looked pale to the face as they rode on their way, her fan open and rapidly trying to keep the sweat from falling despite the cold weather. Eliza therefore took her sister’s hand tightly and didn’t release it after receiving a squeeze, a gesture that earned her a small smile and a tighter grip until they were obligated to lift themselves out and file into an orderly line within the courthouse.

“Good morning, ladies!” A young gentleman, one who looked far out of his league and flushed enough to color a thousand roses. “I-it’s a pleasure to b-b-be escorting you inside! I’m su-sure your guardians and nannies have briefed you as to the events of today, but I was t-told to repeat it one last time before the first l-lady begins! Today is all about being your most proper and genuine selves, something you all are bound to be v-very aware of! Answer honestly and freely, but do not be so bold to show disrespect; y-you are still before a gov-government official! Your answers will be recorded, assessed, and the ceremony announcing your engagements will take place shortly thereafter an intermission for dining! Now, if an M-Miss Abigail Smith will join me, w-we shall begin!”

A short but lusciously dressed young woman stepped out from the front of line with perfect posture and a stern expression, one that made the young escort blush more profusely if it were possible, and wasted no time entering the spacious room behind two heavy locked doors. It felt like days before she later emerged, face stained with sweat and hair disheveled but otherwise looking triumphant. Throughout the waiting period, all of the waiting women, who were finding themselves able to sit after quite a while of uncomfortable standing, were offered very light snacks and tea, which Eliza graciously look. Right before she was meant to be called, she realized with a pale-causing horror that a large splatter of the liquid had stained the bottom half of her dress and that it was far too large and set to be subtle or easily scrubbed away. A petrified look of absolute horror to her sister, who was now proudly exiting with a big smile on her face, sent the twenty year old rushing over and her hands clasping behind her own lower back.

“Act natural,” Angie whispered, and nearly at once three of her previous septenary of hoops were swished away and rapidly folded beneath her still moving sibling.

“Elizabeth Schuyler?”

Faced with no other options than run and destroy her life, Elizabeth straightened and confidently shed her excess overcoat before walking boldly to the escort. She could only imagine how she looked coming in with a plain and simplistic base compared to her heavily styled and layered top, her posture pore due to her shifting within her heels and makeup smeared from the snacks, but she still strode in as naturally and nearly as daringly as she imagined Angelica did before her. Instead of a crotchety hag or bitter widow, she was met by a younger lady with minimal makeup, a clearly comfortable dress, and a polite smile as she was deposited eloquently on the chair facing her; for this she was immediately grateful.

“Miss Schuyler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the Matchmaker greeted easily. “As you know, I spoke with your sister before you, and she has set the bar exceptionally high. I expect on the best of you, little lady.”

Being called such a derogatory term made her instinctually move to scowl, but she caught herself in a silent, polite ‘yawn’ behind her dress sleeve under the rapid revelation that comment was likely a stab to test her manners. “Yes Madame Matchmaker. May I prepare the pastries and some drink?”

The Matchmaker’s brown eyes sparkled daringly. “As you will.”

Throughout the long minutes it took to gather and serve, Eliza was forced to endure several critical comments about her posture, the choices she made with arranging snacks, and her clothing with a shut mouth. She found herself relieved when the Matchmaker paused to daintily eat and drink, and yet she did not partake aside from a polite mini sip to save a little face.

“You seem like a fairly intelligent woman,” her evaluator said post her light dining. “Tell me, child, have you had any schooling?”

“Doctor Pretorius along with various mentors of the Schuyler family,” she replied evenly. “The doctor commented that I had a decisive intellect when it came to reading and writing, and I have always made excelling exceptional marks on duties of the house and home.”

“I see.” The Matchmaker took note of something before continuing. “Tell me about your strengths, then.”

Not surprisingly, the things she said were her strong points were immediately to be shown for demonstration. Elizabeth obediently sewed clothes into clothes, fashioned back together simple toys, and sang a lullaby that made the waiting escort sway along subconsciously before cooking a traditional meal that took what felt like an excessive amount of time while she entertained more eloquently than she felt comfortable with.

“And what would you say is expected of the perfect wife?” The tester finally inquired as she served out the lunch platters.

“Her place is with a full belly and warm heart,” Eliza replied in the same pointedly sweet tone, her mother’s words hounding inside her head on repeat. “She is to attend every need of your husband over-”

She halted as she felt her throat tighten to close off her fake dialogue. What she said in this room was going to determine the rest of her life, and though Mother prodded and abused and demanded one thing, her maternal parent had no say or knowledge over what would truly take place now. Therefore, she finished carefully setting the table before stepping back and looking the Matchmaker for the first time directly in her eyes all session.

“A perfect wife ought to tend to every need over her husband over every wish of her own, but not neglect her own needs in the process,” Eliza continued confidently despite how her knees trembled beneath her skirts. “A husband and a wife are to work as one unit, not as two separate beings so opposite in expectation that should not make the other happy. The wife shall rear children at her husband’s side and to make them all proud, and in their old age when death looms over their part, they shan’t regret a bit of their lives together. These things, Madame, are all characteristics of myself and that I expect of whoever you deem best for me.”

The Matchmaker’s eyes again seemed to sparkle before she made several rapid marks upon her pieces of parchment. “Very well. Exceptional work, Miss Schuyler, and thank you for preparing my lunch. You are dismissed.”

A blush of immediate and hot rage blossomed across her face; she’d been kept longer just to serve one pretentious woman her food without reaping any of her hard work. Rather than tell down the smug lady like her mind was screaming for her to do, she ducked her head low, said a quiet ‘Thank you, Madame’ while curtseying deeply, before essentially dragging the escort along so she may leave. He gave her an apologetic look before opening the second side of doors into the main waiting area, and as soon as she slipped away from his hold she was storming out of the courthouse and chucking her shoes as far as they’d go while she let out a choked up sound of intense anger and frustration.

“Betsey?! What’s happened, did it go poorly??” Angelica was at her side like always with immediate haste for wherever she’d been waiting beforehand. “Dear sister, there is more to life than marriage, I know you know this. As for Mother-”

“No!” She cried out before burying herself to cry into her beloved older sister. “It was immaculately! She made me prepare her next meal and I have never felt so dispensable and lowly in all my days!”

As on time and steadfast as she’d always been, Angie comforted her and treated her to an exquisite meal of their own that was enough to encourage her to straighten up her remaining makeup and have a street vendor clean up her excess skirts before getting them back on. As per her sister’s blessing, she gratefully discarded the wig and brushed her down and out so it flowed nicely down her back in its natural beauty before they headed to the ceremonial stage. Despite the ominous dread settling in her mind like she swallowed bricks, the middle born ‘Schuyler sister’ could not help but admire the lavishly done up stage while those of the poor class who’d just finished their own ceremony either rejoiced or uncomfortably resided along their new partners. She caught one woman’s eyes, ones that were full of sorrow and dark resignation as her betrothed yanked her unforgivingly away; the cold reality of her potential future made her feel terribly ill.  

Time moved too quickly thereafter, as she stood proudly alongside the other ‘cultured pearls’ of the colonies who sent their women for political union, she kept her eyes decisively above the heads of the massive crowd. She didn’t even allow herself to eye at the future husbands of every young woman there, for she didn’t trust herself to deflate her schoolgirl dreams any more without openly showing her fury and sorrow. When the Matchmaker, escort and mayor had properly welcomed everyone and stated all of the pleasantries to begin the announcements, she stole a look over to her sister, who’d been stood several people away from her and more closely to the center of stage.

“Sybil Ludington!” The mayor announced. “I am pleased to announce your arrangements have been made with Mister Edmond Ogden!”

The by furthest youngest woman walked briskly to the center stage and shook hands with her betrothed, and as they formally introduced themselves and flirted playfully, Eliza longed for such a smooth transaction for herself. As others were called and paired off with the confidence of a thousand generations before them, she finally allowed herself a glance over the row of formally dressed and mostly handsome young men. Not to her surprise, she recognized most of them from her family’s various affairs by at least last name, and she let her mind wander into who she’d inevitably be given over to.

“Angelica Schuyler!” Her sister’s name being announced snapped her back to the ceremony, and she felt herself clenching at her dress until her knuckles drained of color as Angie turned to meet her face head on. “It is my deepest honor to announce you shall wed one Mister John Church!”

Her sigh of relief was easily masked with the squeal of elated surprise that erupted from her sibling; John Church was a fine young gentleman, one that she knew her senior had been seeing for quite some time in secrecy due to his family’s reputation, and Eliza was struck with the idea they likely planned their responses to be nearly identical to ensure this result. The nineteen year old watched with overflowing pride as her sister ran into his arms, throwing her own around his neck and laughing when he spun her around. There was a smile on everybody’s face as the young betrothed took their seats together before the stage, and her own heart ached with a twinge of longing for a similar fate despite it being impossible.

A few more names and couples were announced before her fate was upon her. “Elizabeth Schuyler!”

She turned profile and made her way to the center of the stage; she wondered if her fear was at last seeping out externally. As she neared the center, the sound of her harshly beating heart nearly distracted her from the gentleman’s name, but she knew him easily. He was a very tall and dapper man in his thirties, an outlier in the sea of youths, and when he approached her she subtly recoiled immediately. This was Thomas Jefferson, a known leader of the most prominent Loyalist party in all of America, and they wanted her to be wed to the likes of a man with a reputation for being cruel, smug and very, very particular.

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” he drawled in his thick Virginian accent while he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You’re even more beautiful than my beloved and deceased.”

He was referring to his late Martha Jefferson, of course, but the comparison made her feel ill. As he rose and spun her around the face the pastor blessing the arrangement, she stole a glance back to her family, all of which looked shocked or somber save for her mother, who just looked relieved. She was about to mouth a ‘What do I do?’ to her now stunned sisters before her face was squished between a set of long fingers that easily forced her gaze to meet his own.

“Now, now,” Jefferson mused with a slightly sinister set to his gaze. “I don’t want a pretty wife who thinks it’s alright to act so finicky around me. Perhaps you  _are_ due for some lessons in how to be a good little girl.”

 The rage she’d been tending over all day burst up, and she hardly processed how quickly she yanked away from him and stood with the upmost righteous pride. “You have some nerve speaking to me like that, Mister Jefferson!”

“You are my intended, you ought to get used to it. I assure you that you won’t miss what your parents failed to instill in you,” he announced with equal gall as he seized her forearms. “Don’t you know your place?!” 

She met his steely hazel eyes resolutely before pulling back, causing his nails to dig in deep enough to scratch her and rip right through the dainty sleeve fabric. “I do, and it is not by your side,  _Thomas_. I shan’t go through with it, not even if I were lame and reliant upon nobody else!”

The back of her neck was suddenly within the bony grip of the Matchmaker, who spoke with a sweeter tone than her hold implied about her mood. “Not too worry, sir; I am terribly sorry about all this, she must be ineligible for the upper class if she is to behave like this.”

“Bold talk coming from a lady who can’t be bothered to prepare her own meals during a regulated exam!” Eliza practically roared while using her shoulder to break distance between her and her awful judge. “You waste our time and resources on a system that is hardly effective! You claim to know best and to pair us as happily as any naturally proceeding courtship, and yet I have seen more women cry of fear, anger and grief than I have ever seen before! You are a fraud, Madame Matchmaker, and you shan’t pass any more judgement of value upon me!”

“You little imp!” The woman shrieked, and before she could fully storm off the stage her senior had her hair unforgivingly in her hands and was yanking her to the Schuyler family. “You are NO lady, you are a disobedient child who would do well for a proper thrashing for that tongue of yours! Dare I say you ought to be hung for such public indecency, you stupid bitch! You have failed at every stage of your life, and you shall never be wed so long as I have say about it. Catherine Schuyler, you may have raised up one decent offspring, but if this is how the others have been weened? Ha! You are hardly a mother at all for raising such an ignorant whelp, and may she die a lonely widow within your neglectful grasp due to your own incompetence!”

Eliza felt nothing but the burning light of her rage as she struck the Matchmaker across her face, and she hardly felt present as her family got her out of trouble with the police and rushed her back home. As she stepped off the carriage and ran inside, she let out harsh sobs of raw emotion, locking herself within her room long enough to change into comfortable clothes before rushing out the ancestral prayer room. It was there she continued to weep unashamedly and demand to know why she was too bold to fit in with everything that was expected of her, though that was mostly out sorrow and fear of Mother’s wrath. She eventually settled well enough to properly pray for her life and straighten up for dinner, which was consumed with tense silence before Catherine finally rose.

“You have dishonored me,” she said with stone cold apathy. “You have brought shame upon our family’s very name like some ill-mannered child, and as such, you ought to be beaten bloody like you ought to have been long ago.”

Eliza screamed along with her younger siblings as she was yanked by the hair yet again out of her chair, her hands clawing desperately for freedom; her parents had never dare lay a hand of any of them for discipline despite the popular beliefs, and she was not about to let Mother begin on her when she was a grown woman. Luckily, she was separated with an easy light push from Papa, whose gaze was unreadable despite the kind gesture.

“You shall not lay a hand upon our daughter,” he commanded firmly to his wife. “Emotions are high and the situation is tense, but it shall pass as everything does. Be seated.”

“Phillip-” Mother hissed, but Papa simply shook his head.

“Be seated,” he repeated in a stern tone, and though her mother did as she was instructed, she made haste in fleeing far enough from her home that she was finally came to rest underneath a cherry blossom tree.

The night grew darker as she sat underneath the budding tree, but she found no reason for her return to a home where she was at least now partially completely unloved. She held her knees to her chest and shivered terribly, the sounds of the outside world seeming all the scarier now that she was completely alone, but she resolved anything was better than what she’d fled from. All that said, she was relieved when her father’s familiar figure joined her upon the hilltop and settled beside her before draping a couple of thick blankets around her trembling frame.

“The blooms are sure to be beautiful this year,” Papa said softly as he craned his head back to look at the hundreds of buds above them. “You can always tell by the shape of the root, I hear.”

“What if some of them never blossom, or not at least not how they’re supposed to?” Eliza inquired after a long moment of heavy silence. “What if it comes out…wrong? Will they still be as worthy of celebration as the regular ones?”

“My darling daughter, each and every flower is unique and perfect in its own way. Some minds are not meant to understand why, but they dance and create beauty either way,” he responded while giving her a reassuring smile. “The cold night is no place for a flower, I do think.”

Tears formed fresh in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “You shouldn’t have pushed yourself so far just to come get me. The doctor told you you’re not the man of your youth; perhaps you’d consider believing him?”

He simply scoffed good-naturedly. “Doctors don’t know me better than myself, though I must admit a nice cup of tea would be excellent about now.”

Despite how the world felt like it was burning all around and trapping her underneath its smoke that suffocated her, Eliza smiled and even gave a ghost of a laugh for the reminder of her father’s obsession with the beverage. “Of course, Papa. Let’s go home.”

* * *

“Betsey?” Rensselaer quipped softly from where he’d been happily coloring at her feet. “I’m so hungry, Betsey. It hurts!”

Of course Eliza knew how the rations worked, and that even the wealthy had to cut back on more than leisurely spending, but she couldn’t bear to see her youngest brother so clearly hungry. She stole a few glances either way before handing him a small apple from their container, hurrying him underneath the cabinet to chow down discretely while she continued on their dinner. In the nearly three weeks since the events at the Union Exam/Ceremony, she’d happily gone about the household duties while Mother planned Angelica’s wedding and tended to the baby. Despite the fact she knew her maternal unit would likely never fully forgive what she’d done and how the menial work sent aches deep into her body, she had never been happier to be largely left alone by her birth giver and do all of the things she’d always liked to do to make life easier on the ‘household help’.

“ELIZA!” Peggy’s voice cut through the general serenity of their home as she ran at full speed into the kitchen with wild eyes. “ELIZA, ELIZA!”

“Peggy, darling, I’m right here!” She reminded slightly loudly in an attempt to calm her sibling, but she was clearly having none of the comfort.

“READ THIS!” Her little sister practically shrieked, shoving a letter in her face with reckless abandon.

Though she disliked the gesture, Eliza clearly saw the fear in her sibling’s eyes and said nothing as she read over the parchment. With every word and description of how the current war was going, her heart felt heavier in her chest, but the latter half was far worse; they were putting out a mandatory call for men between the ages of sixteen and fifty to serve in Washington’s army as a means of having a real fight against the British. Their father was well within that age range despite how poor his health had become over the years, and when she looked back to Peggy, they both had tears budding in their eyes.

“Mama will be devastated,” the eighteen year old whispered hoarsely. “He can’t go, Betsey, he won’t last a full day!”

“Then they’ll have to send him home! Surely General Washington would not allow an unable bodied man to fight,” the older of the two tried to reason.

“You read that elaborate report just as well as I did,” Peggy replied somberly before gripping her sister more tightly. “The war is going really badly; he needs all the help he can get, and the only person who can give help from one of the most prominent families in the whole freaking country is our father.”

“But he’s served his time!” She exclaimed as her eyes fogged with her own tears. “Dying for your country is only acceptable for young men or men of active duty!”

“Does this inscription sound like he cares?” The younger sister demanded with a small sob barely concealed behind her hand. “We’re losing Angie, now Papa too? It’s too much to bear!”

“My daughters, what has anguished you so?” Papa’s familiar voice inquired as he entered from the front foyer, and though they exchanged equally pain filled glances before, Elizabeth very reluctantly relinquished the message to their father.

To say the very least, Mother was incredibly disappointed in the general and their efforts to become a country as a whole. She’d openly cried- something the eldest trio had only seen once or twice in their lifetime- and begged, then screamed, then profusely begged Papa not to go due to his health, his principles, his past, and their family. Just like Eliza knew he would, he shot each down very carefully; his health had been slightly better, his principles and past were dedicated forever to the Continental Army, and the family would be quite alright without his presence as he fought valiantly to protect them. Not a pair of eyes were left dry after a very impassioned dinner where Papa stormed out to retrieve his army clothing and practice with his weapons, and Eliza found herself gathering up her siblings for storytelling, comforting and tucking in all together in her room.

As she carefully laid John down at last, she found herself starkly aware that her poor Peggy had not joined the emotional fest. She fully expected to find her sister in Angelica’s old room, which had been vacant since her engagement with Mister Church, but grew gradually more anxious as she made her way through their entire mansion and could not locate her. It was only when she halfheartedly checked the small room (and former closet) that held the family’s various achievements that she located her younger Irish triplet, eyes wide and face full of guilty as Papa’s old armor draped over her shoulders.

“What are you doing?!” Eliza hissed at once, making haste in ridding her sibling of such gruesome garments. “This is no time for dressing up and mucking around, young lady!”

“Papa cannot go to war and expect to survive!” Peggy hissed back while getting to her feet rapidly. “I will not allow him to be slain, even for a noble cause, when everyone here desperately needs him!”

“Everyone here desperately needs you as well!” The older teenager shot back while rapidly smoothing back down her sibling’s curls, much to said sibling’s displeasure. “You are my baby sister and you will be doing no such illegal, insane plan!”

“Oh, please!” The younger grunted. “I’m just ‘and Peggy’, never ‘Peggy Schuyler’ or ‘beautiful, witty Margarita’. I’m an afterthought and you know it, and if it means saving my new country and family, then I’ll do it!”

“And I’m currently the most massive family embarrassment since our uncle did unspeakable things on the public stage!” The elder insisted. “Our parents need someone like you to lighten the mood, and our siblings need someone incredibly strong like you to look up to against Mother’s well-intended but extremely flawed ideals. Can you imagine the blow if you were to leave our lives?!”

“I agree with Papa that there’s no more honorable way to die!”  The junior grabbed the armor decisively and attempted to pull it back over her torso. “That law against women enlisting is outdated, anyway! Why should an old man put his values on the judgement block when he has three able bodied daughters?!”

“The law  _is_ the law!”

“You and Angie have both said that some laws are meant to be broken and that many of them have been formed out of fear!”

“And yet we must still comply so we are not slain for treason! Would you rather be serving more than yourself or dishonoring us all permanently when  you’re either slaughtered on the battlefield or by our own Patriots?!”

“Honor means nothing and you know that better than anyone! It pales in comparison to lives!” Peggy finally said with enough conviction and strength that she was able to slide on the chest plate.

“Then I will go!” Eliza snapped, yanking the metal off of her younger sister unforgivingly. “I will bring no further shame to appease Mother, Papa will be spared, and  _you will live on_. I understand how much I mean to you all, but I’m not the one with suitors lining up left and right while I am on the cusp of all of my successes. For now, I am the family reject, and should I live, I will bring more wealth and security than we could’ve ever imagined for ourselves in such terrible times. It must be me logically, my dear Margarita, and you know that as well as we know each other’s heartbeats.”

Seeing the tears pouring again out of her eyes broke Elizabeth’s heart, but she would stand for a risk that cost so, so much. Slowly, the newly anointed adult before her lifted up a pair of scissors, their eyes meeting just long enough to understand what they’d now do against all of the formalities and rules. She stood with her eyes closed as her closest in age younger sister carefully cut and styled her hair to look masculine, her breath hitching slightly when a ribbon was slipped around the leather piece holding her hair into a small ponytail.

“For good luck,” Peggy justified when she was turned back around. “You might something from home to…to get you through.”

Together the two packed up the saddlebags of their fastest stallion along with a knapsack with all she’d need, all of her feminine items stowed securely beneath essentials. As she slid on her father’s bulky armor and suit, she struggled to sit still upon realizing it would have to be taken in just a tad. The sun hadn’t yet risen but the sky was slightly brighter in color when they finished sloppily mending and writing out her goodbye note, the bags under their just a bit more prominent now, and they embraced tightly for what they both knew may well be a final time.

“I will follow you, I swear it,” Peggy whispered with tears weighing down her voice. “I will enlist as a nurse and find you.”

“You don’t have to subject yourselves to the horrors of war, my darling sister,” she whispered shakily while cupping her youthful face.

Instead of breaking down further or looking away, the younger held her gaze and gave a watery smile. “Somebody has to have your back in a world full of men and war. Now go, I’ll hold back our parents and Angelica, but it won’t matter if you’re within reaching distance.”

Before mounting her house, she gave her forehead a long, sincere kiss. “I love you so much. No matter what happens, I will do whatever it takes to make all of this enough to effort we spent.”

“I love you more,” Peggy affirmed with a proud but grief-stricken smile. “And hey, just stay alive. That would be enough.”

With the sun beginning to consider rising beyond the hills, Elizabeth Schuyler rode her stallion to the designated campsite of soldiers fighting American Revolution. 


	2. Replanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting remarkable young men is a business in itself, and the rage of war becomes real with one of the bloodiest battles of the Revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN LAURENS! ♥ You are an unsung Founding Father, and your legacy is one of most excellence. Your memory lives on with us. 
> 
> 2.) This chapter was hard to write, as the style for this story is much different than my usual, so apologies for the wait along with potentially spotty details. I tried to stick close to this as historically as one can in an AU, and I did find it fascinating to learn about such an devastating defeat for the Patriots along with a horrendous, well-executed tactic played by the British.
> 
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death and depictions of bloody warfare are not shied away from in this chapter. It will be less described in later chapters, and the events will be touched on in the next update, so please stay safe and don't read if it will hurt you. Stay safe, my lovelies. ♥

As Eliza rode the stallion that was now undoubtedly her own, a beast she’d fondly named Makya from an old family tale that this was the name of a very great-great-great grandfather’s practically immortal feline, she considered what she’d be called within the army. Of course she thought through the names of her ancestors first, but given how prominent her living relatives seemed to be throughout nearly every colony, she reckoned she’d never be able to plausibly claim that she was of male descent with an aged and completely unheard passed down name unless she stated she were unfit for the service in some traditional means; the cost of being suspected was presently too hefty without adding more lies.

The closer she drew to the camp, she finally decided on absorbing her father’s name, essentially trading out her birth name for that of her second-born and lesser known little brother. ‘Elizabeth’ would an unstable, young and unusual child, and ‘Phillip Jeremiah’ would be a remarkable, level-headed and kind young man that stood up in his father’s space when the war called for men. She knew her plan was far from perfect and that she would be making matters even more Hell on her relatives should the truth come out, but it was logically the most sound of all of these admittedly preposterous ideas.

“You there!” A masculine voice with a thick and strange accent yelling behind her startled her immediately, so much so that she exclaimed out on instinct before firmly clamping her mouth shut and halting Makya. “Young sir, at last I have caught up to you! You were flying through these forests as though you’ve known them all your life!”

She had no control over the blush that painted her face; she hadn’t known _these_ trails her entire life, but she was an experienced rider who trusted the instinct of her beast more than any man ever would, so going quickly and purposefully toward the location had given her little hassle. “I see.”

To her own ears, she sounded absolutely ridiculous with her voice dropped down so deeply, but it was must have not sounded strangely to the young man now casually patting the side of his own stallion. “I’m afraid I may have gotten a bit lost while looking for the location I am to report to for the General’s army. Would you be so kind as to set me in the right direction? You’re certainly a man of expert in this location; I must admit I’m envious.”

Accepting the scroll form a quick, stiff extension of her arm, she was moderately disappointed to see that this fellow would be alongside her the rest of her journey. “Mister...de Lafayette, it appears that we are going to the same camp.”

“Blessed be!” He rejoiced immediately, pulling a ribbon out of his hair to wring out the sweat from his thick curls before refastening it around his impressive mane. “I must have gotten turned around a hundred times before I located you. And your name, good sir?”

“Phillip Schuyler,” she replied as confidently as she could. “The pleasure is all mine.”

For right around two hours, the two rode alongside each other through the remainder of the forest and into more terrain that made Mister de Lafayette exclaim and grunt over several times. Despite her initial best efforts to minimally speak, her new companion carried on easy conversation aside from his complaints as though they’d known each other all their lives, a gesture that gave way for her to relax into and enjoy alongside him. Of course her own stories had to be modified to match up with her new persona, but she found it comforting to talk about her large family and fascinating to hear of his coming all the way from France just to piss off his own corrupt king and aide to their ‘thrilling’ Revolution.

As they reached the camp, however, the somber mood hanging in the air stopped their pleasant talk and storytelling in its tracks, and she found herself swallowing hard as she dismounted and clutched her summoning scroll like it was her only anchor to reality. All around the area, identical tents were set up neatly and formally while men of all shapes, colors, sizes and temperaments went through a line for food that looked more like sludge or mud than something edible. Nearby, a group of men were pushing and needling on a younger man with poorly cut hair while someone tried to unceremoniously break them up, and the foul smell already hanging in the nearby air made her grimace.

“Pleasant,” Mister de Lafayette- no, he’d insisted to be called by one of his many first names, Gilbert- commented with a chuckle. “Sometimes I reckon I was meant to be a woman rather than one of these brutes.”

Though she doubted he’d ever learn the irony to his comment, she cracked a semblance of a smile as she replied. “You’re telling me, my good man.”

“Break it up, break it up at once!” A strong voice demanded, revealing the owner to be a muscular but well fed man with a bandana wrapped around his head as he broke up the two scuffling. “Your behavior is appalling! Do not think the General will not be taking note of your immaturity!”

“Uh oh, Burr’s gonna tattle on us,” one of the men shot back sarcastically, a look on his face so painted with anger that Eliza found it to be in her best interest to hurry after Gilbert, who was now confidently striding to a large tent in the centermost peak of the campground.

“Monsieur Washington?” The Frenchman called as they reached said tent. “As appointed by Monsieur Franklin, I have arrived and am at your service!”

“Mister de Lafayette!” A man with loosely tied back blonde hair rapidly approached them, his uniform neat but covered with various stains she assumed she had no interest in learning the origins of. “It is a pleasure, sir; we have heard many great things!”

Her companion smiled and shook his hand. “I hope…to prove them be well, Monsieur..?”

“As, yes, of course. Tench Tilghman, aide-de-campe to the general,” the new gentleman said neatly while a polite smile. “I understand you are still getting a grasp on the English language. Would you prefer to speak in your native tongue?”

“That would be nice, but let me introduce myself to Monsieur Washington first. I have been making merriment with Monsieur Schuyler this long, after all!” Gilbert replied with a proud smile. “ _Merci beaucoup,_ Monsieur Tilghman.”

“Of course, sir. He is conferring with a few of his subordinates in the head tent as it were; be sure to request interest,” Mister Tilghman noted as the taller man turned on his heel and strode off. “Mister Schuyler, your summoning scroll, please?”

“W-what?” She squeaked in her normal voice, immediately coughing harshly to cover it up and stiffly turning back from where she’d tried to hastily catch up to her friend. “Might I ask w-why, good sir?”

“You are much younger the Phillip Schuyler I’ve heard many tales of,” the elder man noted evenly. “This is merely a precautionary measure. You must understand, sir.”

With a brisk nod, she handed it over and watched as his piercing eyes moved across the parchment. She looked around the camp again as he studied the file, noting the man with a bandana scoffing and seizing the now soaked fabric from his head to ring it out; she realized his entire outfit was completely drenched, and the laughter of some men nearby made her feel so apprehensive she nearly took the scroll and fled back for her home. If they were to treat such a figure of such blatant authority with such careless and cruel regard, how would they handle a ‘small young man’ that was jumping at little more than her own shadow?

“I did not know that Phillip Schuyler had a son of age,” Mister Tilghman finally said while carefully refolding the scroll and handing it back to her. “Pray you forgive my confusion, Mister Schuyler. It is a pleasure to have you along.”

“Thank you, it is of no consequence,” she replied, her legs stiffening as she reminded herself not to curtesy while the aide-de-camp continued on his way.

“Mister Schuyler!” She also had to remind herself to respond to her new identity as Gilbert strode to her side, wide grin on his face. “The general is a very polite and informed man, I assure you. I urge you to make his acquaintance as soon as possible!”

“I will,” she assured despite the strong feelings of dread building up in her stomach. “So…how do we know where we are to camp?”

“I was wondering just the same. You know, you can talk to these men, good sir; they do not bite!” Gilbert chuckled while grasping her by the shoulders and pushing her directly into a gentleman walking past. “Go on, introduce yourself!”

“U-uh!” The young woman was forced to cough again to hide her nervous quip, her eyes widening as she looked into the gaze of a young man with extremely curly hair and a confused, bordering aggressive, gaze.

“D’ya just go shoving everyone around?!” The man snapped to Gil, eyes darkening and fists clenched. “You’ve got some nerve!”

“Don’t hurt yourself over it, there are worthier pursuits!”  The foreigner insisted, reaching out and gently helping her step away from him with a gentle grasp on her shoulder. “Gilbert de Lafayette, good sir.”

The new man looked discontent with the response, but nevertheless wrinkled his face in an admittedly adorable way before extending his hand. “Eh, whatever. John Laurens, pleasure’s mine and all that other formal shit. What about little bit over here?”

Both of their eyes fell to hers, and she straightened her back at once and offered her hand, which looked and felt far too dainty. “Monsieur- I mean Mister Schuyler, sir- sirs!”

Laurens immediately raised an eyebrow but accepted her limb, shaking her so briskly and with such intent that her entire body immediately moved along with his grip. “Welcome to the Revolution, I hope you like slop.”

“What is slop?” She inquired, feeling like an idiot the second he let out a harsh, rude laugh.

“You’re a rich boy!” He exclaimed, and she prepared herself fearfully for a shove, punch, slap or otherwise masculine form of rejection or humiliation, only to be greeted with a mere ruffle of her hair. “I’d say don’t you worry none, but this place changes you real quick. You’ll learn how to be a real man soon enough, but don’t even think about asking for the special treatment you got back home. You’re in the army now, son!”

“T-to the Revolution?” Eliza- she supposed she should really start referring to herself as ‘Phillip’, but it just didn’t feel right- echoed the phrase she’d heard for many Patriots since the war began, and immediately her clearly Southern-hailing fellow Patriot grinned.

“TO THE REVOLUTION!” He yelled at once, and she watched in excited awe as the rest of the camp immediately called it back with the same enthusiasm.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” a new voice commented as the peace was restored as quickly as it’d been interrupted, and she couldn’t help but feel more confident than before as a gentleman with a head wrap and a relaxed demeanor approached. “I told you that you’d find one you liked should you stop picking fights.”

“Yeah, yeah, talk away, tailor man,” Laurens immediately grunted, but the affection he had for his friend was immediately obvious.

“Hercules Mulligan,” the more well-mannered young man introduced while shaking both her and Gil’s hands. “I hope you two are finding your ways alright. Training begins at dawn tomorrow, and they’re serving out dinner now, so I advise you go ahead and grab some while you’re still able.”

“Th-the…’slop’?” She inquired, trying to sound more confident but ultimately feeling her face redden as Laurens immediately laughed.

“That’s just beans, son!” The southerner explained with another snort on her laughter.

“You can receive your day’s ration from the rider near the general’s test. Best get to it; it looks like he’s ready to continue on his path,” Mulligan kindly explained.

She quickly made her way over with the Frenchman, accepting what’d been given to her gratefully and realizing she’d have to sit like a young man would as they located an open spot on the ground to consume what’d been given. Inside she found a pound or so of bread, half a pound of beef and half a pound of pork, enough butter to be spread out through the days, about a pint of milk, of a bit of cheap soap, and of course a gill of beer. It was with great care that she sat with her legs spread and arched like her French comrade, spreading the butter sparingly but eating about half of her portion of bread and all of her pork before finishing up on the beans, which smelled and looked much worse than they tasted. For the remainder of her food, she gifted the beef in equal sections to the three men she was now acquainted with; the gesture got her smiles and clasps on the back, which made her beam.

“It will be getting cold soon. What do you say we head back to our tents and drink?” Hercules suggested after John got off his soapbox talking about what he’d do if a Redcoat made their way onto the campsite.

“We weren’t supposed to bring our own tents, were we?” She whispered as huskily as she could to the most gentle-natured of her new friends.

He immediately pressed his lips together, clearly suppressing a bit of laughter of his own, before kindly squeezing her hand. “You are remarkable for volunteering in place of your papa, good sir, but John had a point in noting your greenness. Each man is to share his quarters with five others at maximum; I’d be happy to see you there.”

As the feelings of accomplishment and pride flushed out her and her face brightened, Eliza remarked internally that it would be increasingly difficult to hide her more feminine features and habits if she weren’t to be alone or with one another man, and she only grew the more anxious when she saw those she’d be sharing her living space with. All of the men there were well meaning but quite frankly far too lower class and disgusting for her test, openly picking at their orifices and letting out gas while gambling or drinking or both, and she felt she’d had all she could take in her lifetime when a kind, familiar face popped in.

“Mister Schuyler, Monsieur Washington has allowed my request for your transfer to my quarters,” her increasingly beloved Gilbert announced as she quickly joined him at the tent’s edge. “Gather your things; you’ll be able to meet him once you’re resettled.”

“H-how did you know?” She asked with a weak laugh, relief flooding her senses as she rapidly grabbed what she’d unpacked from Makya before gratefully following him to a much more vacant tent with a proper shield from the ground and spare pillows/blankets.

“Those gentleman are ruffians; you can smell it from miles away!” Her friend lamented with a scowl. “No lady should be subjected to such indecency.”

Horror quickly took the place of gratitude, and she at once began to fear for her safety. “W-whatever do you mean, good sir?”

“Oh please, little one, I have known from moments into our meeting! You are petite and well-mannered, your walk is clumsy and awkward, and you constantly shifted how you spoke before we arrived,” the Frenchman stated in a voice seeming far too nonchalant for such a devastating realization.

“I….I!” Sorrow and absolute petrification built up in her throat, making her unable to speak for fear of crying, but the tall young man immediately took her hands in his and gave them a few gentle squeezes.

“No, no, no, no tears!” He hushed immediately, a kind smile complimenting his warm eyes. “I think you are all the more badass for it, ma petite, and I assure had I not met you while you were settling into this persona I’d be none the wiser. I want to help you do this as much as I wish to help you win the war, if you will have me.”

His approach was kind and his touch was delicate, but she’d been taught as a young woman in an uppercrust society to trust nobody easily. He’d have glory to gain by exposing her, and considering how new he was to the country, he had nothing to shame over if he ruined her family’s life in boosting his own. It would seem they were completely alone in this tent as well, so if he’d want something more, there’d be virtually nothing to stop him even if she denied it…

Her fears quieted when she looked deeply into his gaze and saw the warmth emanating so softly and sincerely, she was having a terribly hard time not trusting him. If worse came to worse she could simply flee, and while never seeing her parents and younger siblings again made her feel ill, she could estrange from them all together to preserve the family name. At the end of the day she would still be a woman, and his violation of her was as unbeneficial in the end as it was unlikely he’d do such a notion if he hadn’t already made indication of it.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered shakily, allowing her real voice to wisp out carefully enough so that only he could hear. “I owe my life to you.”

“I owe my life to you, my dear; I’d still be endless miles away had you not come to my rescue,” he insisted with an easy grin. “This is the least I could do for you after endlessly speaking with you and having you lead my horse and I to the correct location.”

“It was all my pleasure, I assure you,” she rebuked fondly, finally wrapping him up in a tight hug that he quickly relaxed into. “I cannot thank you enough.”

When he wrapped his arms around her, she was reminded of her beloved Angelica or father, their grips tight and sincere as they softly assured she’d be alright as long as she was brave and diligent. Tears threatened her vision and she allowed a couple to slip out before she wiped her eyes and sat back, watery smile cast to her essential guardian angel and no doubt looking as disheveled as she felt.

“War is a dangerous risk to take, ma chere,” Gil remarked after giving her a patient smile in return, expression now somber. “Surely you know that in the event of your father being unable to serve, they will send him home and you will not be in such terrible danger.”

“My father would merely stay near the encampment and rush to battle regardless. He is a stubborn man and would die for this country a hundred times before ever putting his own longevity first,” she remarked with a fond and exasperated sigh. “This is the only way to ensure his safety.”

“And do you not believe he would be crushed beyond comprehension should you die?”

“At least I will have died most honorably, my friend.”

“Mister de Lafayette, Mister Schuyler, I trust you are presentable?” A masculine, authoritative voice from just outside their tent broke up their tender moment of friendship.

“Yes Monsieur Washington!” Gilbert called, getting to his feet along with her as the general himself came inside with his full uniform and proud expression signaling his rank and honor with astounding bluntness.

“You two seem to be well situated,” he remarked as his eyes swept over their quarters. “It is to my hoping that you find this tent more comfortable and to your liking, Mister Schuyler.”

Despite his polite words, Eliza immediately heard the biting judgement behind his words and was about to bear it respectfully when a feeling of harsh resentment washed over her rapidly. Of course only her beloved sister and Gilbert knew her true identity, but even if she were a young gentleman unable to confidently reside with ruffians and lower class Americans, there was hardly a reason for a figure of such high power to look condescendingly to a kind gesture by an immigrant equally as lost.

“I have no doubt you will make these common men into soldiers,” Gil interjected for her, but she was too worked up to ignore it.

“You will have a fine army on your hands, General,” she announced in a confident masculine tone that she was immediately fond of. “I expect to be treated the same as any other soldier here, sir, but I hardly find it worthy of harsh judgement that I wish not to reside with individuals far from gentleman. Things shall work quite differently under the rage of war and I understand this, good sir, but I implore you not to condemn me before I’ve yet begun training to be who you wish me to be.”

Given how his jaw set, she quickly realized she was likely quite foolish in speaking to her commanding officer is such a way. As Mister Washington looked over her with his stark blue eyes, she forced herself to remain still and formally stood; perhaps he’d go easy on her as long as she demonstrated she didn’t crack immediately under pressure.

“Your point is valid but I advise you watch your tone, young man,” George finally stated decidedly. “I trust you will be able to lead our forces on our morning run, if you are so astute?”

It was now she dropped her head and relaxed her posture in shame, feelings of guilt swirling with the wisps of resentment at the base of her stomach. “Yes sir.”

After the general excused himself properly, she immediately let out a quiet groan of mortification and sat dejectedly on her folding bed. Gilbert went to her side and wrapped an arm around her, a loose grin on his face despite the feelings of dread that only grew stronger the longer she was surrounded by all the testosterone and rebellious men from all walks of the colonies.

“Why, you’re behaving like a young man already!” He exclaimed softly and assuringly. “You’ll be a Patriot soldier in no time.”

* * *

 

As it turned out, the issue with training was the lack of discipline that such a remarkable commander had over his men, and Eliza found herself having to do most of her physical work alone. She got into the habit of going on morning runs through the nearby woods and their camp after a humiliating display of lack of physical training with the other potential soldiers, and the minimal portions she consumed made her extremely cautious about how she rationed while taking every opportunity she had to find extra edible plants and berries while she was trying to become more fit in her own time. Of course she always shared these findings with Gilbert first and then John and Hercules, and over the next three weeks the trio had become quite close and she’d begun to feel like the camp would fill the void of her beloved family.

 It was when General Washington had them march to defend Long Island that the prospect of war became real, and the familiar terror had set it so firmly she’d hardly been able to sleep before the dawn of their moving out.

“I’m ready to kick some serious Redcoat ass!” John announced as boldly as ever, punching one fist into his open palm and shouldering his gun and sword with the ease of someone raised on the practices. “Those bloody Brits won’t know what hit them!”

Several men joined in the notion and she couldn’t help but grin along despite her apprehension. Aside for her general endurance for proper exercise needing improvement, learning combat with the sword and shooting guns was a tedious process that’d far from yielded the results she needed, and she had a terribly sick feeling that she’d be slain if she came nose to nose with the enemy. She tried not to let it show as she quickly strode alongside her friends, her weapons thumping against the excess fabric of her uniform and head held high while they conversed and sang songs of Revolution until they were too near to make a single sound.

Much to her amazement, there were already thousands of men at the location from Washington’s various commands, and they were all awaiting the inevitable arrival of the British. She felt newly out of place weaving through the crowd and subtly gripping onto Gil’s satchel for dear life while they found a place to set their supplies among the masses, but her fingers fell away from the leather as she caught the eye of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes upon.

He was young, probably around the same age as she, and his dark red hair was tied back in a blue ribbon to accent his proudly adorned uniform. His eyes were blue, a deep and warm color unlike Washington’s, and he was talking quite animatedly to a couple bored looking nurses about something she couldn’t quite make out. Her heart fluttered helplessly in her chest and she felt giddy when he looked toward her, but her elation was interrupted by the familiar whoop of John Laurens before her comrade ran right up to the handsome officer to throw an arm around his neck.

“How’d I know your ass would be here??” Laurens asked him excitedly, his grin matching the young gentleman’s as they clasped each other on the shoulders.

“I’m not missing any chance to see the bastards off!” The beautiful man exclaimed. “What did you do with old Hercules, and I implore you show me to this mysterious Frenchman at once!”

The two began making their way toward the whereabouts of the aforementioned men, and with a start she realized she had no idea herself what’d come of them in her lust-coated haze. She swiftly stepped after the duo at a respectful distance, sliding back behind Gilbert once she finally caught sight of him and coaching herself silently to act as natural as possible as her friend approaching with her admired.

“Lafayette, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to a friend very near and dear to my heart!” John declared, stepping off to the side to accept a slip of parchment from Hercules.

“Alexander Hamilton,” the redhead said while extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, good sir. Laurens has spoken quite positively of you in his recent letters, so I am glad to finally meet your acquaintance, sir.”

As her closest comrade introduced himself by full name and Hercules threw his arms around Alexander in ecstatic greeting, she ached with the longing to reveal herself to this young soldier and attempt to win his heart, or at the very least his undivided attention. If this were one of the many, many balls she’d attended since the second she was eligible, she’d be leading him to the dance floor and trying to impress him with all the confidence of a blushing single woman while her mother kept a concerned, suspicious eye, and she’d have a shot. Instead she was lightly retucking her far too lengthy blouse in and adjusting her ponytail, trying her hardest to appear masculine while not giving away the infatuation she’d been struck with, and she felt as much like a fool as she did when she first entered the original camp site.

“…Schuyler!” The snippet of conservation from Laurens seized her attention, and she found Alexander’s gorgeous eyes looking into hers as he offered his hand.

“He’s mentioned you a far bit as well, good man,” Alexander noted warmly as she shook his head as confidently as she could muster. “He says that you are a level head among their antics, and for that I thank you. Every group of comrades need someone to keep them out of too much mischief, eh?”

“Quite right, sir,” she agreed with a cough to pardon the small tremor in her low pitched voice.

It wasn’t long before the four of them had gone off to drink and catch up, and she found it best to dine alone and settle her frayed nerves in preparation for the inevitable onslaught of British soldiers. Over the next few days she did more of the same, keeping respectful distance and blending in with the crowd while trying her damndest to improve her assets enough to engage in battle rather than hide away like a coward. She did learn, at the very least, that Hamilton was like a son to the general despite the vehement protests of said surrogate son, and for that her tender heart grew all the fonder despite her level head chiming in three practicalities to offset her girlish fantasies.

The sound of the cannons firing in the silence of night caused her dreams to be smothered by the harsh reality of war on August 26th.

Many men were already fighting in their different locations, but everyone knew that the Redcoats would be upon them soon enough. She held fast to Gil despite herself as they stood in preparation for the first sight of the enemy, and he held her to his side until an outpour of men descended upon their forces as they were put under the command of one General John Sullivan. The sound of musket fire and screaming from both sides exploded in her ears, and she found herself in the back of line tripping over herself due to her shaking and biting back tears of absolute terror. No book in the world or account from those she’d gotten to know over the past weeks could ever prepare her for the horror of watching some of those same men collapse like ragdolls, and the devastating action of her holding one gentleman’s hand as he breathed his last breath.

“What the hell are you doing, Schuyler?!” Someone shouted, seizing her by the shoulder and unceremoniously throwing her to his side. “SHOOT! The dead have no more use to us!”

Eliza settled for shooting only once or twice to ensure she didn’t accidently harm the men of her forces before her, but the real pandemonium broke loose when a new fleet descended over them from the rear. The air was thick with smoke and the noises from all of the men were devastating and passionate enough to chill her to her core, and it took all the courage she could clutch to run as fast as she could and fire blindly at the patches of red fabric trying to slaughter those on her team.

She was on her backside before she could process being shoved out of the way, and the relief of looking up and seeing Laurens standing above her was quickly halted when he cried out devastatingly and collapse nearly on top of her. A Redcoat charged at them as she caught sight of the red patch rapidly growing on his leg; she barely felt to be in control of her body as she seized her musket and fired thrice at the attempted murderer of her companion. When she opened her eyes from a hard blink, she discovered the British man clutching his heavily bleeding shoulder and dropping to his knees no more than a couple of yards from them; the Patriot marching decidedly closer and aiming his gun at the man’s head told her it wasn’t due to a lucky shot on her part. Despite her humanistic side screaming to not finish the bastard off she knew that staying where they were was no option if she intended to see their survival, so the nineteen year old scrambled to her feet and hauled her friend up with some difficult assistance from said companion.

“Fuck!” Laurens hissed, spit flying from his mouth in his evident agony. “Motherfuckers, fuck, damnit-!”

A man dropped nearby them and she picked up the pace as well as she could with John’s near full weight on her smaller frame. The smell of blood grew thicker seemingly each second while gunpowder seemed to fill every sense, and she was forced to nearly lift a man she’d grown to care deeply for into a wagon already past capacity with heavily wounded army men.

“We need to go now before somebody shoots the horses!” One man whose hand was clasped over his left eye shrieked, the noise nearly lost in the chaos. “Damnit, you fucking idiot, MOVE!”

Of course Elizabeth knew he was speaking to the black man sitting in the driver’s seat, but when she rushed around to implore him further in case he didn’t hear, she couldn’t help but scream in horror to realize that he’d been brutally stabbed through the gut and had evidently been thrown there by someone looking to raid his now empty satchel. Her heart pounded harshly in her ears as she leaped beside him, grimacing and not bothering not to cry as she was forced to push him off and send the horses racing toward safety as she gripped the reins so tightly the leather indented clearly in her hands. It was by far the most rough, quick and treacherous she’d ever commanded while she choked on her grief and repeatedly prodded the terrified creatures to obey course, so she collapsed immediately upon attempting to stand once they’d reached a medical tent already brimming over with causalities and agonized living alike.

“Sir, are you hurt??” One of the nurses asked hurriedly at her side, and she couldn’t bear the willpower to speak so she simply shook her head and exhaled in relief when she responded by helping her fellow workers in unloading the back.

Over the course of a few hours, over one hundred men arrived at the tent, and the supplies were gone before everyone got a chance to be treated. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she turned desperate soldiers away; the horrors of all that had already been done were etched and repeatedly playing in her mind, making it hard to make a single sound. When commanding officers finally arrived, they helped usher those still gripping tightly to life back into wagons while they discarded all of the causalities, and it was only when Laurens reached over and clasped her hand from her being seated to drive that she felt she truly breathed over the course of the massacre.

“You did good, Pip,” he slurred loudly as she snapped the reins down to send the rocketing into motion.

The days drug on with little rations and extremely limited supply, and every day the death count grew higher as the Schuyler and those she’d come with desperately stuck out in Brooklyn Heights with the East River to their backs. When night came and the rain began pouring down, word came of the British building trenches to gain of the Americans, all of the surviving and uncaptured of which were essentially trapped by now. Her trembling remained constant but she was able to speak clearly and keep the company to Laurens while not being bold enough to investigate the potential whereabouts of her beloved men. Orders soon came to evacuate under total silence across the river with the assistance of hundreds of Patriots on the other side, and she was finally captured into rest after three long days of constantly being awake once she was in the boat and draping over John like a comforting blanket she herself desperately needed.

* * *

 

“Ah, there he is!” A familiar French voice drew her back into consciousness, leading her to bolt into sitting up on her elbows. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there, tiger, it is just me.”

The tears were immediately, pouring out of her as she pulled her beloved Gilbert into a tight hug of relief that rushed over her like water from a faucet. “Oh Gilly, I was nearly certain you’d perished! It was an absolute disaster- an utter bloodbath- and you weren’t among us so I thought…I-I was so sure…! Praise God, my beloved brother, you live!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he soothed softly and repeatedly until her tears had mostly subsided, leaving her to give an embarrassed chuckle and clean up her face while adjusting his sitting on her bed. “The causalities lost on both sides were enormous. We will continue moving toward secure area to tend to our wounded; at present we are stationed in New Jersey. I am glad you got some rest; John told me you hadn’t closed your eyes once since you rescued him from the battlefield.”

“Were you hurt?” She asked anxiously.

“No, I was not. The horrors I have seen are all too familiar to me from my beloved homeland, I am afraid, so I am far more acclimated,” he conceded with a soft sigh. “Your safety has been heavy on all of our minds, I assure you. I implore you to stay out of the way from direct fire from now on.”

The idea itself was a welcome relief while she’d still be fighting bravely for the country’s freedom, but the implications still troubled her. “I know I am no ace upon the battlefield, my friend, but I wish to help any way I can. I did not travel here to remain out of harm’s way; you lot would say the same to me.”

“There is no safe space in war,” Gil reminded with a tight smile. “Please, Pip. You will at least consider it, oui?”

Pip. John had called her the same the day before, and she’d passed it off as wound-inflicted confusion, but her closest comrade was as healthy as possible and said it warmly and sincerely. The nickname made her blush and inspired her to adjust by his side, resting her head upon his shoulder and nodding when he let out a thoughtful sigh.

“I will,” she promised, and for the time being, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave kudos/subscribe/leave a bookmark/leave a review if it so compels you!


	3. Rooting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becoming a respectable member of Washington's famous army takes more than sole determination and efforts. Relationships, especially those closest to the heart, are not as carefully tended over by those who the hurting may want, but are repaired in time by those identical to what they need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WRITING OF THE MULAN AU HAS AN OFFICIAL TUMBLR/ASK BLOG! ♥ This project is the mutual effort between my smol Amanda and I, and on the blog, she'll be crafting the art while all of the writing comes from me, and of course the ideas/responses come from both of us. Be sure to check it out, and always, please enjoy this update! ♥
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stainedflowerproductions

Though she did not particularly like it, Eliza- no, ‘Pip’ is what she ought to refer to herself as from now on- was excellent at keeping promises and secrets alike. It warmed her soul to know that Gilbert was so concerned for her, yes, but the cost of compassion under such harsh circumstances could wind up deadly. The reality of the cost of love hung over the camp along with the gruesome process of grief for those they’d lost at Long Island and treating the survivors who didn’t all make it regardless of their moral compasses, and Pip resolved to move along just as well as her fellow army men. The young Schuyler spent most of her days running errands for the nurses and doctors without being forced to be with the same men she’d had liquor with not even a full week’s time ago who teetered on the edge of the death, and in her ‘off time’ she continued her self-training and watched over the nearly fully recovered Laurens.

“I don’t know why you’re still so worried about me!” John exclaimed as she cleaned and redressed his wound, a fist-sized cut that was finally on the other side of the worst from bullet-cited infection. “The doctor said I can keep both my legs, so it’s easy street from here!”

“You essentially took a bullet for me, good sir!” She reminded with just as much enthusiasm, carefully lifting the limb to reach around it fully. “This is the least I can for you when the debt of my life has been put in your hands.”

“I did what any honorable man should do in the same circumstance,” he insisted. “Pip, I love you like a brother, and we _are_ brothers in arms, so I implore you to stop fretting as though I may perish any minute. You act like I’d let those bastards get the better of me!”

“You did sustain a significant injury,” she reminded gently. “You are a very brave man, but you are not invincible. Please do not neglect that in your grandeur.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawled, but for both of their sakes, she resolved that he was taking her warnings with sincere heed.

“Mister Schuyler!” A young sprite of a nurse came rushing in, and the young soldier couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride when she saw how quickly she, a timid hardly girl, had surpassed all of their and even her mother’s expectations in just a month’s time. “Lieutenant Hamilton is gathering every able bodied man in the center of camp at once! It is urgent!”

“Thank you, Prim,” Pip responded with a smile, one that made the fourteen year old blush profusely before hurrying on the rest of her way. “Don’t you even think about it, Mister Laurens! Strict bedrest and plenty of nutrients; that is the doctor’s orders!” 

“I am able to stand and my wounds are hard to open!” John argued as he sat up on the edge of his bed. “Lead the way and don’t believe for a second you will deter me from business as usual a moment longer!”

Extremely reluctantly, the nineteen year old advanced to the center of camp to join the clusters of men and women alike already gathered around a large flagpole in the center of their campsite. In front of all of the crowd Alexander Hamilton stood proudly, a horse prod placed in his back pocket and his arms crossed to match his condescending, critical eyes, as General Washington stood over them all upon his magnificent stallion, which was clearly well equipped with supplies and luggage. At the general’s side stood Aaron Burr, his appointed assistant by their allies that acted as a ‘yes man’ and reporter for the critical commander, and who practically nobody genuinely liked do to his judgmental attitude, spineless behavior and generally rigid agenda.

“Ladies and gentlemen! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, if you would direct your attention forward!” General Washington barked, sending all heads turned and all eyes on him. “There is much to be done and insufficient time to do it, so I will make this brief. I am needed in defending Fort Washington alongside the most elite of our forces, which are in commute or already positioned for this battle. In my absence, the role of leadership falls upon my son’s shoulders, and I feel not the need to express the deep disappointment and dissatisfaction I feel at the state of our current resources. Many of you are without valor or heroism, brought here by a government issued call but unable to fathom defending something greater than your own asses. I have the utmost confidence that Lieutenant Hamilton will do an excellent job at whipping you men into shape, and when we meet again, I expect to see behavior exemplified with obedience, discipline, and honor. Until then, stay alive and remember that the eyes of history will be far crueler and blunter than I am now, and they remain upon all of us. Hamilton, you may take it from here.”

With an air of frigid authority, the general sent his horse racing away, leaving all of the inhabitants of the camp to look around to each other with baffled astonishment. Most of the men around her were understandably furious at the dressing down, and while she felt quite pissed at his lack of acknowledgment for her own self betterment journey, she had to concede to herself that he had a point. The forces surrounding her like that did not go down as heroes were more intent upon retreat than defense, and while the injury count was high, the majority of their men were standing proudly and healthily now. This did little to persuade her to remain with their medical and supply forces, and when she made cool eye contact with her beloved Gilbert, she had a feeling he knew it, too.

“Gentleman! GENTLEMAN!” Lieutenant Hamilton barked with forceful command impossible to ignore. “Stand tall, look lively! You haven’t been told anything untrue! Have pride of yourselves, for God’s sake! Your immaturity _dies_ here, you miserable children!”

“Little Bit thinks he’s so tough because his daddy appointed him!” One of the older men, a coward she recognized as Charles Lee, scoffed from where he was slouching toward the front. “Has he no idea he talk from the same hole he wipes in the chamber pot?!”

For a moment, Schuyler feared with sincerity that young man before the elder would simply shoot him. Instead, Alexander gave him a hard, judgmental stare before marching his way over to the tents, a gesture that made Lee’s allies laugh mockingly before their new commander wielded out two sharp, hardly broken-in swords. All eyes remained glued to him as he walked back to his previous position, thrusting the handle harshly into Lee’s sternum and nearly knocking him backwards entirely.

“If you are so astute, what would you need me for?!” Alex challenged unforgivingly. “I challenge you to a battle of blades, any who may take me up on this opportunity. If you can beat me in this hand to hand combat, I will relinquish control of the army to you. If not, you are to my obedient servant and if you should mouth again, I will dishonorably exile you from Washington’s esteemed army. Feel free to prepare yourself however you wish, and I will combat until you lot are satisfied. Your window of opportunity begins now.”

Immediately several men lumbered toward their tents while even more scattered in fear or to prepare to witness this likely bloodbath, and the young Schuyler found herself rushing up to their commander along with his other closest friends. Immediately Laurens threw his arms around his best friend and laughed as if this was a brilliant game, but while Gilbert pushed his head away good-naturedly, she figured he was about as on board as the very clearly angry Hercules, who was giving him an earful.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” The tailor apprentice demanded. “These men may not outrank you, but they’ve been doing this for more years than you’ve been alive! You are inviting your own murder!”

“They know better than to kill the adopted son of General Washington!” Alex protested sharply and defensively. “They’ve outgrown their breeches and I am putting them back in their places like the mouthy overgrown children they are! I can easily conquer any of their pretentious egos and put them firmly in their place just as well as George.”

“You don’t know that, Alexander!” Mulligan barked.

“What would your father say?!” Gilbert chimed in.

Hamilton grit his teeth visibly. “My father is not _here_ , and if you should really be my comrades, you will support me in reigning in the control nobody has of these men. They have attempted dishonoring those far my capable of themselves, and its damn time they learn it!”

“Agreed!” John exclaimed. “C’mon, he’s been fighting with guns and sword since he was ten! God forbid some egotistic fool with nothing between the legs to compensate his confidence takes a cheap shot!”

“You must admit, Monsieur Milligan, they have legitimist points,” Gil conceded with a sigh. “We could not persuade him even if he did not. All we can do is watch his back and ensure the only thing that may be injured is his pride.”

“Tarnation both of you!” Alex huffed. “Schuyler, pray you put these two mothers in their place!”

Four sets of eyes abruptly landed on her, and she felt the heat on her face as she struggled to coherently state her own worry without further offending the apple of her eye. “A-ah, sir, I think you will do marvelous, b-but…do not be angry for our being a bit concerned. We only want you to succeed with as little pain as possible.”

Though he grunted and turned away, she tried to convince herself that he was simply too worked up for rationalization as she let herself visibly droop. She felt Gi’s hand on her back and Hercules giving her a sympathetic smile, but she simply felt too numb to truly react as she silently made her way to the makeshift viewing sidelines with most of the other members of the army. Upset or not, her heart ascended to her throat as she watched Lee approach the armor-less Hamilton with full practice gear and the same hair-cutting blade, grin as wide as his eyes. Admittedly, the late teen wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry when Alexander disarmed his elder within the minute and sent him rushing toward the infirmary with his metaphorical tail between his legs and nasty cut on his left forearm.

“Next!” The lieutenant barked proudly, sending a clear wave of unease and shock through the masses.

One by one each challenger steeped up, each visibly more uneasy than the last, and one by one the commander took them down with classy force and perfected tactic. It was evident that a couple got much closer to victory than most, forcing the defendant to turn up the intensity by a few knots, but in the end each prideful man had been forced back into place with their humiliation on display very shamelessly for every other person to witness. Alex, clearly exhausted but grinning like the damn maniac he was, made his way back to the centermost spot where Burr tentatively approached himself with his parchment and weighted board in hand.

“The terms of this arrangement were clearly stated and you lot agreed it,” Aaron reminded formally, his eyes nervously flitting between the masses and his new boss. “If there any no other hopefuls, we will continue however Lieutenant Hamilton wishes.”

Silence enveloped their camp, and for a moment, the most ridiculous idea to ever wash over her senses occurred. If she were to be able to overtake the buckling young man before them, she’d have complete control over them, and given how impulsive and passionate he was about everything even a little contradictory, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be a better fit as a practical, level-headed person. Immediately reality snapped over the potential plan, shutting it out with knowledge he was far more trained than she could ever hope to be and the consequences that would be severe if she were found out thereafter. For a fleeting moment, her brown eyes made contact with his beautiful blue ones, and time seemed to freeze as they stared at the other until he finally broke it but sheathing his sword.

“Now, if we’re all done trying to play martyr!” The youthful leader decreed, grabbing several practice swords that two slaves brought over in hefty bags. “Get a weapon! Get in position! _Move it, move it, move it_!”

It was hardly any time at all before each soldier had a wooden sword in hand, ones far heavier thicker and studier than children may play with, their formations sloppy but alert. Alexander spun his real one in his hand in a grandiose, aloof fashion before snapping it into proper position, pointing at the pale-faced young man directly before him and making said man jump back hard.

“Let’s get down to business, to defeat the Reds!” Hamilton declared, his voice like a melody above the rapid beating of all of their hearts. “Did they send me ladies when I asked for men?! You’re the saddest bunch I’ve ever met, but you can assure yourselves before we’re through…” His eyes found her own and glared determinedly, making her stomach drop and heart flutter painfully. “Mister, I’ll make a man out of you!”

The rest of the daylight was spent running as a group through the messy, thick woods, all forced to match the pace of their quickest men or receive more physical punishment from the now viciously intent lieutenant. Thanks to all she’d done the weeks before, she was able to reside around the upper fourth of runners until she fell on their final lap and was forced to do one hundred crunches when she was essentially trampled. The secret young man had no issue devouring the contents of her tin and curling up stiffly in her tent, entire body trembling while her closest companions celebrated and drank with Alex.

“Mon petit Pip!” Gilbert exclaimed when he finally made his way into their quarters, clearly inebriated but concerned sincerely. “Why not come have a glass with us?? The day’s training was savage, you must let lose or you will be useless in the morning!”

“I am not interested in seeing that bastard’s face for the rest of my life,” she quipped sharply from her fetal position on her mat. “Leave me be, enjoy your alcohol.”

Thanks to his sloppy state, she was relieved to see him stumble away to rejoin their mini festivities. As Pip laid there with her entire body throbbing, she thought with deep longing for her family, who were far from perfect but never quite as cruel as what she’d been forced into on this day. When it came to fighting against the Redcoats, she was sure they were doing the ultimate good for their cause, and it was easier to dehumanize the monsters on the other side of the musket. Now that she was on the bitter receiving end to the coldness of a man she was previously helplessly enamored with, however, she considered if there was _anybody_ she could trust aside from her sisters as she slowly descended into fitful, anger-tinted fury.

* * *

It was little Renneslaer hat first discovered their eldest unwed sister’s absence, and the disaster of passion that ensued thereafter was even more of a grand shit show than Peggy Schuyler could have ever conceived happening before. From the moment the toddler began wailing inconsolably from where he’d gone to sleep in her vacant bed in the middle of the night and woken up without her there, her entire family was awakened by their mother’s screaming of Elizabeth’s name while their father searched for with desperate, bordering-on hysteria. She’d been ordered to the foyer, where she comforted her little brothers and calmed the infuriatedly screeching Cornelia, until her mother came slamming her way back inside and began demanding answers from each of her gloomy-eyed children.

“I know you one of you must have known she was going to do this!” Mother hissed venomously, seizing her preteen-aged brother, John, by his bicep unforgivingly. “Why the tears, young man?! You tell me where she has gone right this second or I swear to you-”

“Stop gripping him like that, he is quite upset enough!” The eighteen year old snapped just as poisonously, seizing her helpless sibling by the other arm and tucking him behind her along with the rest of the cowering boys. “She has gone to fight in the American Revolution in Papa’s place, Mother, and you are not going to be able to stop her without revealing her and getting her quite possibly killed.”

Now her mother’s eyes were boring into her, all ablaze with righteous fury and betrayal, and Peggy knew the striking of her face was inevitable before her birth giver’s hand connected at full force to her cheek. She went down hard on her side, making her brothers scream and Cornelia howl anew in her arms, and for the concept she could’ve gotten the baby hurt sent the new adult to rise before she was yanked up by her curls. The next slap was harsher, pooling blood into her mouth as she fell forth onto her knees. The baby wailed from fear and general morning prissiness, and it was again the youngest member of the family that inspired the eldest child in attendance spit the metallic liquid directly in her mother’s face when she rose up.

“You’re a deplorable woman who I am ashamed to call my mother,” she growled while her parent, in a state of clear rage and shock, slowly wiped the blatant insult away.

“Catherine Van Renneslaer Schuyler, Margarita Schuyler!” Her beloved father was like a thunderstorm in the way he marched over, his eyes darkened with emotions and facial muscles bulging out from stress. “We have much more important things to worry about than your immature squabbling!”

Papa separated them physically with both hands, pushing his wife towards the door before turning with a cold expression to his youngest adult daughter, a notion that chilled her to her core. “Where is Eliza, Margarita?”

“The war, sir,” the young adult responded with stiff confidence, her eyes cutting over to her female parent. “She took your place in the interest of health, time and safety. Even if they’d have sent you home, you would have fought until you were killed. I need not tell you how hefty the risk of ‘unmasking’ her is comparison to allowing her to make her own way now.”

The older man she’d idolized practically since birth stood in absolute silence before turning his back to her. “You both have dishonored me.”

This statement was more of a blow to her entire being than any slap or manhandling, but Peggy realized in a stark moment of realization that she would not react how her older sisters would _or_ how her younger siblings were. Instead, she was proceed just as she herself would, and with that knowledge and resolve, she led her brothers away from her emotionally devastated parents so they were slowly able to be coaxed back to sleep, even the infant.

For the week following this epiphany, not a word was exchanged between she and her ‘caretakers’, and even after this the words with loveless, hardly emotional, and cruelly direct that were delivered only out of requirement. The older sister remained warm and diligent for her brothers and sister regardless, always showering them with undivided attention, praise and reward, but the absence of Eliza hung more over all of their minds until Peggy felt she may explode. The young revolutionary was far too determined, intellectual and action-orientated to be left completely in the dark, now more than ever, and she made up her mind once the slow began to pile up higher and her window of opportunity grew almost too tiny to squeeze through.

“By some miraculous blessing of the Lord, you have had a proposition for courtship. You will be sent off for the remaining winter months to live with him and his family, and once the spring arrives, a lot of land will be arranged for you two to begin your lives independently.”

Margarita knew she ought to not be alarmed or surprised in the least at Mother’s constant, apathetic meddling in all of their lives, but she was practically speechless when she announced this in front of their entire immediate family as they finished breakfast. The teenager locked eyes hard with her birth giver in an attempt of stating exactly where such an arrangement could be placed without stating it, but Catherine refused to meet her gaze until she loudly cleared her throat and stood up.

“I do wonder if you have lost your mind,” the young woman stated condemningly. “When courtship was first even remotely brought up, you made a promise to my sisters and I to wait for the Matchmaker’s verdict. You cannot violate this sanction with good honor because you are cross.”

“Young lady, I am your _mother_ , and I shall do whatever I want with the likes of your future,” Mother responded with sharp command, one that had intimidated the youth to no end’s not even a year’s time ago and before, but not now. “Your one and only chance at redemption has been presented out of sheer curtesy of the Van Renneslaer family. You are to be a proper wife to Stephan, and if I hear one rumor of you not being such, I shall take pleasure in exiling you formally from the family. Am I understood?”

Being separated from her brothers and sisters was almost too much to bear, and for a few moments in the terse vacancy of sound thereafter, Margarita Schuyler almost consented to this life of hers. The waves of rebellion and years of fury build up under innocence-turned-spitfire crashed against thoughts of complacency immediately, and the youth resolved as she held the eyes of a woman who she knew she’d always love despite her current hatred that there was nothing in their budding country that would ever keep her from her siblings, her _real_ and loyal members, no matter what they told her.

“…Goodbye, Mother,” Peggy announced curtly before looking to her brothers, all of which were clearly horrified. “I will see you soon, my loves.”

The fresh adult immediately rushed for the rest of the house, her only thoughts of grabbing the essentials so she’d be able to survive long enough to reside elsewhere, but her aging mother managed to be quicker in motion under the stress of the situation. Her parent’s hand grabbed harshly to her curls, her grip like steel as the recipient inevitably cried out while yanking to be freed. No matter how the grown child dug her heels into the carpet and clawed at Catherine unforgivingly and desperately, she could not get free and could not escape the cruel intent of her new reality conducted by a woman who she was sure did not truly love her.

“It was you who allowed and encouraged Elizabeth to fail at every stage of being the products of our loins! You _both_ bring shame to us in every sense of the word, and I hope you are quite proud that she shall inevitably be slain thanks to your own immaturity!” Mother hissed as she began to drag her eldest (present) daughter toward the front door. “I ought to have you jailed for treason! Perhaps shackles and public shame are the only punishment that will work on such a selfish little whore!”

“How is it that a MOTHER is able to value her husband’s life over the honorable death of her CHILD?!” Peggy shouted back, digging her lengthy nails into her captor’s wrists and gasping when she was thrown unceremoniously into the frozen tundra of the outdoors. “I think you are angry because you’re too much of a complacent homebody to do a thing to help Papa! Eliza is going to be more than you ever dreamed, and all you’re worried about is your God forsaken reputation!”

“She is a stain on our proper, intellectual and vastly successful family,” Mother replied with a sudden, even frigidness. “If you are in cohorts with her, you are no better than she. I want nothing to do with either of you until I get apologies for such appalling, reckless, peasant-like behavior.”

“If being a peasant means having a backbone, then I’ll happily take a demoted social class!” The snow was cruel on her flimsy house slippers as the young adult stood her ground, but she’d born the abusive behavior far too long to allow it to smother the heroism of their Betsey. “You treat your own family as if they are beneath you! At least we have the good sense to take agency of our destinies rather than become a bitter old hag unable to bear more babies she claims to love but treats like disposable dolls!”

Mother stood in a shocked silence for only a moment with a deeply hurt expression breaking through her rage only a moment before she snatched her proper shoe off of her foot, chucking it hard as her youngest Irish triplet. “ _Get out_! Get off of my property, you are no child of mine!!! GET OUT!”

With her thin shift, fuzzy but insufficient outdoor robe, and barely-classified-as-footwear foot slips soaked by the weather, Peggy fled across the yard and toward the gates of their estate while her mother continued shouting obscenities and her siblings cowered inside. The eighteen year old didn’t dare slow her pace until she was into their stables, throwing open the stall of her favorite horse and clamoring onto her while clumsily pressing the fabric usually used to separate her legs from the direct back of the beast around herself. Considering her haste and how she refused to comply any longer to the bullshit rules of society Mother drilled into her, Margarita almost gleefully spread her legs how a man might ride and used the cloth to kept herself modest while they took off toward the city.

 Even if she adored her father, sisters and brother more than she could ever love any man, she loved and respected herself enough to proudly make the long, frigid journey to New York City in order to write a check for later payment with one of the family’s most consistent outfitters so she was able to clad herself fully while stowing another set of dress just in case she did not reach her destination in time. Thereafter, she make her way to the Church Estate without as much as a word to another citizen, and she allowed herself to silently grieve while the night grew bitter and she arrived to the property half-frozen on her grunting, exhausted stead.

“Good girl,” she whispered to her hooved companion, her legs stiff and body tumbling forward as she tried to stand as she managed her into the well-warmed and insulated stables. “There, there, you did very well, my beloved pet. I’ll get you see up with some good food and water, and you’ll rest for the next few days. Good, good girl.”

Setting out the grain, water and two apples felt like agony on her own beyond exhausted body, but she was just as determined as before to take care of the only ally she had from her home as she was to abandon her vindictive mother. Margarita grabbed another couple of riding shawls, tightly securing one around her upper torso and tying the other around her minimal but thick skirts before stumbling to the Church residence through the blizzard-torn yardage. The second one of their servants- servants, she was relieved to find, not slaves- opened the door, the eighteen year old was rushed inside to the fireside and to be heated up, fed and hydrated with two women dipping her swollen, purple-tinted feet in warm water while others helped her dress into insulated house clothing and another went to alert the slumbering masters of the house.

“My God!” Angelica gasped before Peggy caught sight of her, relief enveloping her like the various heat now drying her soaked body. “What has happened, my beloved sister?! What are you doing so far from home at such an hour, and in this weather…?! God, you’re trembling like a leaf; JOHN, GET WARM CLOTHES NOW! My sister, my baby sister…”

Even if her lips weren’t practically frozen shut due to the lack of moisture in or around her mouth, Margarita would have reveled in her own silence as she was worriedly and lovingly tended over, especially relishing the care from her eldest sister. She and Eliza were tightly knit, maybe even more so than she and the mature, witty and wise Angelica at times, but long before now she’d regarded her oldest sibling like a truly loving, firm and doting mother, far more qualified than Mother even as a child. The eighteen year old ended up falling fast asleep in Angelica’s lap, body finally at a comfortable temperature despite the remnant shivering as she was covered with thick blankets and the fire roared pleasantly.

When the prospect of sleep finally ebbed into a state of non-necessity/non desire and she opened her eyes, Peggy found herself placed into the center of a spacious, luxurious bed that cradled her warmly against the cool air touching her face. She took her time in sitting up, taking a moment to appreciate the lovely and oversized shift she’d been changed into before making her way toward the kitchen. A couple of servants, two different ones that she didn’t recognize from the night before, were hard at work on making what seemed to be lunch, and her beloved family members were nowhere in sight. The young woman grabbed a fresh apple before scurrying out and finding the foyer she’d been brought into, where she settled easily into the couch and consumed the fruit ravenously.

“I knew you must be starving, but you were far too asleep to coax you to swallowing a drop of food,” her sister’s familiar voice noted fondly from the entrance as she finished cleaning the rind. “How are you feeling today?”

“Sore,” the younger woman admitted in regards to the straining felt unforgivingly in her leg muscles. “It certainly beats being dead and frozen in the dead of winter, though, so I won’t complain…too much.”

“Yes, on that subject…what in the world were you thinking?!” Suddenly Angelica was standing before her in all of her fiery pride, expression hard and hands placed sternly on her hips. “I am flattered you’d make way to see me so unexpectedly, and if you and Mother had a disagreement it would make more sense, but these were far from acceptable conditions to travel it! Had your brain been placed over your heart you’d likely be here by now if you’d left at dawn, and instead you were moderately frostbitten and coughing as though you’d caught the plague! You will put me in an early grave along with you, young lady!”

“Mother kicked me out!” Peggy exclaimed loudly before the scolding could continue. “I hardly had a choice!”

The lecturing immediately turned into icy cold silence, one that paled in comparison to the temperatures outside. “She did _what_?”

“I already wrote you on the whereabouts of our dear Eliza, and how Mother and Papa were far from pleased with me. They’d continued hardly speaking to me, and then this morning she decides I’m to wed to one of our cousins and to be obedient lest I be disowned,” the younger sister elaborated with somber condemnation. “When I naturally- and completely understandably, might I add- resisted, she flung me to the weather and forbade me from coming back until I apologize and act as her complacent ragdoll. Needless to explain, I drew up a tab at one of our many seamstresses and made my way north in what I had on with another set tucked in the saddlebags I got from the stables.”

“…I understand.” Her older sister’s expression was dark and poorly concealed fury, but rather than begin furiously writing to tell Mother what for, she sat beside her. “I do not think I’d have to tell you this, my dear, but you will reside with me for as long as you like.”

“I’m more worried about our brothers,” the junior admitted with an anxious sigh. “We three have been her go-to venting posts and striking bags for quite some time. Without us to protect them, she’ll take it out on them; she was already manhandling John when she theorized he knew where Eliza had gone the moment they discovered her absence.”

“I will arrange for them to remain with me if she abuses them,” the elder resolved after several moments of thought. “In exchange for the information, I will send one of my workers to watch over things. Mother is a lady of decent intent- I must allow myself to believe this- but her execution can no longer be ignored. She has crossed the line before, but never quite like this. You very well could have perished out there!”

“I’m sure she would not have grieved,” the younger said coldly, and the older woman simply responded with a sad smile.

“She would have exacted as though she didn’t until her final will came to be published,” Angelica reflected before taking her sibling’s hands. “Now, get yourself closer to the fire and I will bring your lunch. I do not want your joints going dysfunctional due to your journey and the frostbite.”

For a change of likelihood, Peggy did as she was instructed and continued to follow the doctor’s orders in tandem with her sister’s for the next fortnight. The servant was sent out a week into her stay and the letter was recently received with a moderate report of the home life they were missing, a notion they both begrudgingly accepted as unworthy of action, and the snow slowly softened with the warmer days allowed it to remain untouched. It was because of this the youngest of the iconic trio went into town for some more clothing of her own with a few personal items she’d been missing owning, like a certain make of hairbrush, when she came upon the commotion in the square.

“Do not let the Blues bleed red!” A voice was echoing above the crowd, and when she maneuvered her way closer, she discovered two men and one woman standing with fliers, pamphlets and signs, all of which clearly screamed the call for medical personal for the armed forces. “Receive ample accommodations and make a desperately needed difference! THESE ARE YOUR MEN DYING WHILE YOU CASUALLY SHOP AND LOITER!”

The young men shouting until he was positively pink-faced struck a chord with the young Schuyler, and she wasted no time approaching him with confident purpose. “Do not discredit the work of those maintain the front lines, sir. Sacrifices are made around the board for freedom, and no one shall hasten to assist a man who is too blinded by ego to see it.”

“You must be a rich lady,” the gentleman scoffed as he surveyed her up and down. “You don’t sacrifice even a quarter that common folk do. Piss off.”

“Charles!” The other man hissed furiously, shoving his companion away very forcefully and stepping to her instead. “I apologize for his behavior, ma’am. Our cause is desperate and it causes many to behave inappropriately, and while that is barely excuse, it is true. I pray for your forgiveness and compassion.”

“No need to grovel, good sir. I understand, and as my brother fights for our freedom, I am prepared to do anything necessary to assist to my fullest capacity,” she replied honestly.

“Might I suggest considering being a nurse, then?” The much more level-headed man handed her some papers bound neatly together. “It is very intensive, hard and emotionally draining work, but it _is_ a job with stable income and food. It is one of the highest honors, ma’am.”

“And does this bring with it the possibility of reuniting with my brother?” She perked at the idea, the notion of being able to watch out for her Eliza pouring a sense of purpose she’d needed since she left.

“Quite possibly, yes,” he concurred before extending a kind hand to her. “If we meet again, my lady, my name is Wesley Ballard. Until this sweet notion, ma’am.”

Before she went on to complete the rest of her trip, she caught the eyes of the young woman declaring their message with all the authority and eloquence one would expect of such an urgent cause, and the smile the two shared made the young woman’s beat with invigorated purpose. Peggy did not waste any time on conducting quite a bit of research and obtaining as much knowledge as she could, and when she returned to the Church Estate, she was loaded down with all of the materials she’d require to properly join the army as a nurse. For the next five days she fashioned and purchased proper supplies, and when she was finally admired herself in the simple but iconic-seeming dress that would adorn a determined working class woman, she felt she was seeing who she truly was in her reflection.

“I assume you intend to tell me what you are wearing such commoner-like clothing for,” Angelica said coolly and curiously when the eighteen year old made her way before her hosts/family.

“Angelica, John, I have decided I will be enlisting in the army as a follower to Washington’s army,” she announced with as much confidence as she could to conceal the tremble in her voice. “I know that it will be extremely dangerous and that there is good chance I may be turned away, but I simply cannot bear the idea of our Betsey out there by herself among men from all corners of the country with their twisted ideas and doubtful agendas. If I were to be by her side, I am of the opinion it would increase the overall health of our beloved sister and ensure she be returned home safely.”

“And what about you?!” Angelica was understandably just as upset as Mother or Papa would’ve been had they been this loyal, but it still broke her heart. “I want _both_ of my little sisters returned to me no worse for the wear and as mentally content as I left them. I refuse to play this terrible game of trade with the lives of my closest confidantes!”

“My dear Angie, I assure you that dying as heroes would be far more honorable than living all of our lives denying the light that shines within us as brightly as the sun!” Peggy grasped her sister’s hands and pulled her to her feet, her eyes threatened with warm moisture but her stance firmly stood. “Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now! History is happening and we just happen to be in the greatest city for the greatest cause in the world! If a young man had half the passion I do, he’d be off before he could blink. Do not allow me to throw away my opportunity for glory and happiness.”

“And if you should die?” The eldest Schuyler child demanded with her own tears falling freely.

“A death physically is more worthy than an emotional or mental death,” Peggy said with a resolve and somber wisdom that shocked even her a bit.

As much as the eighteen year old tried to convince herself of it, she could not bear to flee the arms that had so loved and nurtured her in her more desperate hours if they forbade it. As she stood there, heart pounding in her chest and hands trembling while Angelica looked her over and John sat thoughtfully nearby, she could only silently pray they had enough compassion to set her free and trust she’d come home.

* * *

 

It had been one of the soldiers who’d challenged their commander to a duel who got the entire army subjected to absolute humiliation on Day Two of their rigorous training. He’d made some sneer about Hamilton not being as physically fit as he demanded they be, and directly thereafter they’d all been forced to line up single-file and attempt to detach a sword that was firmly jammed into the very top of a limbless tree, one that had been barren largely by a storm but had not fallen despite the lack of life. It was a nearly impossible task that the most attractive man on site did with little to no effort, his feet finding foot holes too tiny for the others’ and agility/speed unmatched, and when it was over they were all exhausted, hot and absolutely shamed into place. Pip had done worse than most, landing directly on her backside after only barely hoisting herself up and causing everyone to laugh while forcing her to choke back tears.

The rest of the day consisted of hand to hand combat training, agility coaching across a handmade obstacle course, and strength building by swimming against one of the harshest river currents, all of which Pip failed miserably at. Day after retched day she was knocked over, bruised up, humiliated and exhausted, and her progress seemed to collapse completely every time she felt she got close to a milestone. The only activities she had any real fluency in were speed, as she raced ahead of most of the other soldiers when she was only lightly weighted down, and horseback, as she was the first to navigate through the forest on the back of her beloved Makaya. No matter how her comrades insisted Hamilton was impressed by these feats, she denied allowing herself to believe it and grow chillingly distant from the boss, as did most of their original group in favor of each other’s more pleasant company.

“I feel like I will never catch my breath!” Gilbert remarked to her every night, and she felt she couldn’t agree more as time more on.

“Knees toward your chest, knees to your chest!” Alexander barked on the sixteenth day of training, his own posture uniform as he ran ahead with the twenty pound weights attached to a pole across both shoulders. “Look alive, look alive, damnit! Up! Up! Up!”

Pip was struggling more than she’d ever before. The steep trail had completely ruined the ancient shoes she’d been using, leaving her with no traction and intense burning across her feet and calves. The weights were completely unbearable as well, keeping her stumbling to the sides and forced to stop and readjust while not being able to lift her head more than halfway. As she tried to straighten up her spine once again from where their leader demanded it from at the front, her foot got caught hard on some unseen debris of the forest and she was sent crashing harshly face-first.

“Shit…” The nineteen year old slowly sat up on her hands, which were scraped and burning with the dirt undoubtedly worsening them.

“Time is growing more precious as the others fight, Phillip. If you’d heed my every order, then you might be able to survive!” Suddenly Alexander was in front of her, his expression unforgivingly cruel as he hoisted up her bags and shouted at her before softening his voice with strict apathy. “You are not suited for the rage of war. Pack up your things and be gone from this campsite by dawn.”

As the once apple of her eye trekked back to his plant at the front and the other soldiers hastened to keep up, the young adult felt her world crumbling down around her. In the eyes of Hamilton, it did not matter than she’d self-trained to the best of her ability or worked her ass off more than almost anybody else, and she allowed herself to openly and silently weep as she stormed back to their quarters.

Everyone knew he was gutting the weakest links of their forces, but considering her work ethic and strong moral compass, she’d been assuring herself he’d recognize that above progress unable to be made in such a remarkably short amount of time. As she threw her things into her bags in preparation to depart during the night, an intense feeling of resentment that made her earlier feelings pale in comparison overcame her. Even if she was going to be absolutely unmanned by being banished from Washington’s army, she was going to complete his jackass son’s little challenge, and she was going to do it with so much pride that he’d be forced to hang his own head for a change.

“My God, Phillip, are you okay?!” Gilbert was immediately wracked with worry when he found her with her things neatly packed and her long nap throughout the rest of the day, but she simply dismissed it and informed him of her immediate, forced departure. “That is absolute nonsense! I will have a word with ‘his Highness’ now!”

“Gilly, leave it,” she implored gently before turning over on her bed. “If he wants me gone, I will go. Do write about me favorably in your war memoir though, alright?”

“Oh, Eliza,” he whispered before gently kissing both of her lightly bandaged hands. “Of course.”

It was once the usual curfew had all of the other soldiers fast asleep that she made her move. Clad in her plain, civilian-like clothing, the young woman in disguise made her way over to the great beast of a tree and pulled out a sharp blade, one she’d gotten from the blacksmith’s station earlier in the day. As the night grew darker and more alive with creatures of the night, the Schuyler made notches she could feet the tips of her feet into where there was no traction to be had previously, and when the air began to be filled with the slight hints of light, she finally put away the extremely dulled blades and began to climb her creations and the natural progression. Much like when she was first carving, she slipped and tumbled down more times than she could count, but it was before dawn had completely painted the sky that she finally reached the topmost branches and nestled herself with exhausted glee to wait for the morning routine of forcing the soldiers to attempt this feat.

“Phillip! Phillip, holy shit, that’s fucking amazing! PIP!” John Laurens was the first to see her achievement, and considering the natural and ultimate wingman he was, nearly all of her fellow army men were gathered around and cheering for her until Hamilton was forced to see what the fuss was over.

With everyone around and Alexander staring up at her with clear shock on his face, she spread about her legs and yanked the sword strongly out of its place and hurled it resolutely to the side of the crowd. Much to her everyone’s surprise, it stuck almost uniformally into the cold Earth for a few moments before falling to its side, and she could only glow with honor as she looked back to her commander’s eyes.

“And to think, Mister Hamilton wants to discharge the first person to show him up,” she announced before easily climbing back down from the tree.

Immediately the men were arguing with his decision, all loudly reminding him of what she’d done and all the progress she’d made above some of the ones who admit they were not to her skillset, and the young Schuyler could only blush and hold back tears of affection for these people who were so willing to defend her and implore her staying. Alexander swiftly yelled over them and forced them to quiet, but once all of their hard gazes were on him, he wasted no time going up to her and extending his hand.

“It seems a made a…rare miscalculation,” he announced, his own cheeks flush in a way that satisfying her immensely. “I would be honoring if you remained in this army…sir.”

Pip exchanged a look with her closest friends, all of which were grinning and nodding furiously in tandem to the notion, and she accepted the officer’s hand with a smirk. “It would be my honor as well, Mister Hamilton.”

As the next week passed and her confidence skyrocketed, the teenager finally began to see progress in her pursuits. She was still far from the strong member of the soldiers, but she was able to integrate built strength from the two months prior and the recent extra hard training to carry up to fifteen pounds her shoulders, she successful completed the agility courses, and her aim straightened up with bows and arrows. In a moment of adrenaline, she even disarmed the lieutenant with power over them in sword combat training, a notion that made him grin up with her with proud disbelief.

“My God, it’s been a hard period, but I think he’s finally ‘made a man’ out of all of us,” Laurens groaned as they all sat around drinking post getting the message the British achieved yet another victory in New Jersey. “I’m ready to go back into the field, by God! We waste time improving skills we’ve yet to use!”

“I do not think it’s been wasted time at all! I’ve never felt so healthy in my life!” Hercules argued before guzzling another bit of gin, a notion that she still couldn’t bring herself to follow in.

“I understand both of your points, but if I don’t spill some of those bastard’s blood soon, I’m going to explode. I did not come here to camp, I came to fight,” Gilbert grumbled with a long sigh post finishing off his portion of whiskey.

“Hey, what a fuckin minute!” John exclaimed while hastily scrambling to his feet. “Where did he get those ladies from?? What the fuck! He’s holding out on us! ALEXANDER YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE, YOU’RE HOLDING OUT ON US!”

The older but certainly less somber man charged his best friend immediately, a notion the younger and shorter surprisingly laughed over while catching him firmly. As many others, including the rest of their cinques, hurried over, a hoard of beautiful but plainly clothed young women all huddled around some familiar nurses of theirs, including young Wesley Bardon and Drusilla Neil. All of them looked well into marriage age and likely all had young or families to support, and while they were all clearly healthy and determined to be there, they still stepped back, cowered or scowled when the more ungentlemanly soldiers whistled or crudely greeted these brave young ladies. For a moment, the young Schuyler longed she’d followed in their lead, but it faded with the knowledge that what she had now was too valuable and real for anyone to ever take away, even if it ended immediately.

“Behave as gentleman!” The words came pouring out of her mouth before she made conscious sense of it, likely because of the wolf whistle from the back of the crowd that made the youngest member sink into one of the older lady’s in horrified shame. “You are soldiers, not common men anymore! Treat them with more than basic decency or shame to you all!”

“Guy climes a God-forsaken tree and suddenly he’s in charge!” One of the measly individuals practically spat, but for a change of pace, Hamilton quickly put that man in his place with extra harsh training that was effective immediately before very kindly showing the ladies to their places.

“Mister Schuyler!!” The calling of her voice as the general crowd dispersed surprised Pip, especially coming a female voice she could’ve sworn she recognized. “MISTER SCHUYLER!”

When she turned around, she was immediately tackled to the ground by an excited, shorter woman with the same uniform as the others and her wild brown curls cascading over both of them. For a long moment, ‘Pip’ was simply Eliza, the loving and devoted big sister who immediately burst into tears of absolute joy and hinted horror as she embraced her little sister, the one and only sister who’d followed her after all into this great unknown abyss.

“Oh, my Peggy! Peggy, my little Peggy…Praise God, praise God! Oh, I have so much to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave kudos/bookmark/subscribe/leave a review if it so compels you! Remember to check the official Ask Blog of this project's take on this Mulan AU! ♥
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stainedflowerproductions


	4. Containment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited with the ones that you love brings consequences, ones that are a stark contrast to the merry celebration. History watches critically when one of the most crucial moments occurs under a brave man turned commander by someone he tentatively grieves for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry this chapter is not as long as the other two (if my thoughts are correct), but this was one of the first times I'm confidence about the ending to a chapter. I loved writing the events in a new person's perspective toward the end of this chapter, and I am pleased to ensure the next update will be something much less gritty and morally difficult. In the meantime, enjoy and don't forget to check out the OFFICIAL ASK BLOG of this AU!

“Angelica wanted me to give you a new bow to adorn while you’re away,” Peggy informed her with a warmness emitting her in her eyes. “She says that we cannot go around pretending as though we are a duo when we are a trio of the most iconic tier.”

Her younger sister presented a pale pink ribbon, one that would likely be the subject of quite a bit of teasing from her fellow soldiers if they didn’t know the origins of it, but it complimented the marigold bow in their beloved Peggy’s hair and it was from their beloved older sister, so Pip wasted no time replacing the ribbon previously securing her hair into a ponytail. She tried to immediately return it to its rightful owner, but the eighteen year old simply shook her head and pressed it back into her palm determinedly.

“I want you to give that to whoever you wish to protect the most in this war,” Margarita stated, like it was something she’d long expected to have to say.

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dearest sister, I want to protect you the most,” Pip responded, and it occurred to her that if her new low voice that was far more natural to speak in rather than her feminine one at this point sounded odd, there’d been no teasing despite being in the privacy of her and Gil’s tent. “You can tie it around your wrist if you like; a token from both of your favorite siblings.”

“I mean someone _else_ , you fruit!” The younger sister protested with a kind laugh. “Surely there’s at least one lucky gentleman who you’d be willing to attempt to steal the heart of.”

“Need I remind you, my dear, that I am a man here?” The older simply shook her head and tucked the fabric into her innermost coat pocket. “Homosexuality may only be a sin in the eyes of the law, but that certainly does not mean it will be tolerated here. If Lieutenant Hamilton caught us…Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if we were humiliated and shot within the hour!”

“Would he really do such a deplorable thing to his own men?!” Poor Peggy looked mortified, but given how the general’s son had behaved since he got in a position of power, the young soldier wouldn’t put it past the officer. “The supply for men able to fight is beyond desperate now, and willingness is practically extinct in those drafted, but God forbid a man love another man as a man loves a woman!”

Feeling a bit guilty for the blatant accusation, the elder Schuyler took her beloved sibling’s hands and shook her head dismissively. “It’s hard to say, but I am no longer in the business of betting on his generosity. All of that out aside, my dearest, tell me how our family has been! I have not gone a single day without missing them terribly and worrying ever so much; our distance has been the hardest feat to overcome!”  

As her sister recounted the gall of their mother, the apathy of their father, and the resilience of their siblings, Pip could only sit in formal, silent astonishment. It was almost too ridiculous of an idea to bear that their Angelica had allowed Peggy to journey so lengthily for such a hazardous war- she certainly didn’t when the initial idea entered the young woman’s brain- but the proof was too real and in front of her to deny. When the recounting finally ended, the nineteen year old threw her arms around her beloved family member and kissed her forehead, her hands slowly slipping from her back to cupping her youthful, beautiful, non-makeup-covered face.

“I swear to you that I will ensure we both return to them all safely,” she whispered, her ‘real’ voice slipping out under the weight of every emotion the news brought to the surface of her mind. “And I swear to you that no matter what, I will see to it your mind is not broken by the horrors of what this war will entail. You are capable, yes, but you won’t have to go through the same things I have. I will be here for you just as Angie has in our times of greatest desperation, and I will do my best to fill the void missing them- even Mother, for God’s sake- causes. Alright?”

“I would much rather return the favor than accept such a stress to be added to you!” Peggy exclaimed with enough vigor to make her sister in the disguise sit back. “El- I mean, _Phillip_ , you are my…my big brother! I won’t allow you to be slain; that’s one of the biggest reasons I came to you! You’ve been much more than any man or woman ever should, I’m quite sure, and while sparing the details is well and considerate, I came in knowing the risks as well as any officer, soldier or mere commoner. I am ready, and if I should not be, I will become so. I am going to fight at you and your most beloved companion’s sides, just in the infirmaries with the fellow women, until we can finally hoist our flag proudly and without fear of the bastards in shitty red coats. You dig me?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, the older of the two laughed softly and embraced her sibling all the tighter. “I do.”

“Ello? Monsieur and Mademoiselle Schuyler, I hate to interrupt, but we are needed immediately at the front of camp,” her beloved Gilbert quipped as they naturally slipped out of each other’s hold. “Lieutenant Hamilton and Burr have the rest of our nighttime announcements.”

“Thank you, Gil,” Pip responded as she stood up, extending a helping hand to her sister. “I am sure you will get along quite well with my sister, Monsieur Lafayette. You two are a lot alike in my opinion.”

The Frenchman’s eyes twinkled as he smirked, extending a hand of his own to the younger woman with all the eloquence one would expect to hail from his country. “It is my pleasure, then, Mademoiselle.”

Peggy giggled, a charming gesture that resonated with her older sister just how _young_ she was. “Fasten the restraints and take me away, good sir!”

“Margarita!” ‘Phillip’ chastised, but truth be told, she’d rather her beloved little sister go to a wonderful man like Gilbert than some random elite’s child.

At the front of camp, Hamilton looked somber and rigidly at attention while Burr echoed the same stance, and the mood they practically radiated let anyone who saw them know something dire had occurred or would be happening soon. Once the army was gathered around, their appointed commander squared up his shoulders and began to deliver the usual business; deaths that had been reported, the results of nearby battles save the major one (and loss) in New Jersey, letters to be handed out from the home front. When it had all been said and stated, he lowered the parchment he’d been reading off of and pocketed it sloppily when his facial expression darkening even further.

“We have no choice but to make our way to New Jersey. The Reds have got a tight hold on our colony, and if they should continue along with all of our men they’ve captured, this war is already won. We cannot afford to stall any longer,” he declared. “We will move out at dawn. The journey will be unpleasant, but if there remain any men among us who are not ready to die at a moment’s notice for our country, I want to see nothing of you before the morning’s light. That is all for tonight, get some rest.”

With that, the young commander made his way through the ground and made a direct path for his tent with harsh, rigid movements that gave away his evident anguish, but the nineteen year old couldn’t pin as to why. The entire time this army had known him, he was never afraid of death; he stared in the face and likely punched it to get it out of his way, so what was the problem when it was finally time for action again? She stole a look to her sister only to find her mingling with Gil and Hercules, both of which were clearly entertaining her despite the grim knowledge that hung over all of their heads, and resolved that she’d be more than fine if she went to talk to the lieutenant.

“Going somewhere, Mister Schuyler?” Burr’s voice caught her off guard as she got just within the immediate circle of their shared tent, but she’d steadied her nerves enough to not jump or exclaim now.

“I wish to speak to Hamilton,” she replied simply. “I assumed you’d be busy writing to your beloved back home, truth be told.”

“Is it a matter that you feel so strongly about you’d keep it from the colonial appointed advisor?” The older man arched an eyebrow, but despite the slight accusatory nature in the comment itself, he seemed kind enough.

“It is no secret, sir, but I imagine it is nothing that needs to be transcribed or otherwise recorded,” she rationalized with a small smile. “Please do not worry yourself with it, sir. Your Theodosia is likely anxious to hear from you.”

Suddenly his expression darkened and he seized her by the shoulder roughly, which was enough to make her grunt and attempt to yank away from his iron grip. “Listen to me, good man. You ought to be careful how proceed if you have to gall to be looting through private mail and then want to talk to your commander in a private fashion. Don’t you think I haven’t noticed how you’ve made bedroom eyes to him over the past few months, not to mention you’re moving to the tent of a gentleman you’re always up in the late hours with! My God, I’d be more careful with your filthy sinning if you’d like to remain in the general’s good favor and out of jail or the hanging tree, child.”

The audacity of this coward of a man washed over her in violent waves, ones that made her feel as though she were drowning. He’d always been disliked by the army as a whole, but she’d never so much as once looked to him disapprovingly while other men openly scowled, spit and harassed him, so the nerve he had to bully her was simply ignorant. Straightening up her back so she didn’t outright show this son of a bitch how her training paid off, she glared at him as furiously as she could without losing her composure and replied with in a sharply venomous tone.

“Accusing to dishonor a man who has done nothing to prove a wildly accused of violation of law is just as deplorable, Burr. Need I remind you defamation of character is also a hefty crime to pay off? I have done none of what you implied and should you bring it up again, I will be forced to pass along some delicate information of yours concerning your lady. Pray you kiss my ass; we are done here.”

She furiously stormed to the tent, yanking open the front flaps without so much of a thought about how he may be inside without warning of a guest. Much to her relief, the young man before her simply had his hair down and outer layers off, leaving him in a thin shirt and a tired expression that seemed all the heavier in the glow of only a single lamp. He turned his head to her lazily, an eyebrow quirking up when he realized who his guest was rather than his tent mate.

“Schuyler,” he noted with tired recognition. “How can I help you?”

Admittedly, she was a bit caught off guard by the simple kindness of his tone, but she tried to keep face. “Lieutenant Hamilton, I wanted…I wanted to inquire about your current state of mind. Going into war is nothing to truly celebrate, but your mood is just…Well, it seems to grow dimmer by the day, and though it makes you a quality asshole at times, I am concerned for you. Are you…alright?”

As if she’d turned a knob all the way to the opposite direction, all of the energy seemed to vanish from the soldier’s body and left him sagging over heavily. “Admittedly, I am worried about my father. I haven’t heard from him since directly before the Battle of Fort Washington, and considering how devastating of a loss it was for our cause…I fear the worst may be on my family.”

“If he’s captured now, he’ll be free before you know it,” she replied after a few moments of terse, somber silence. “Perhaps he’s free walking now, and he just hasn’t been able to write yet, or-”

“No, Phillip, I think he’s _dead_.”

Death was one of the biggest if not the largest heavy factor that played out during the course of a war, especially one as bloody and lengthy as the American Revolution, but that didn’t mean the weight of statement didn’t still hit her like rock to the chest. Alexander looked his age for the first time in months, his gorgeous kaleidoscope eyes dim against the glow of the fading light, and it felt natural to take a seat beside him. For a few long moments, the only sound was that of their soft breathing; his ragged, hers quick and anxious. The nineteen year old soldier certainly wasn’t expecting her commanding officer to lean his head on her shoulder, much less exhale and screw up his face to hold back tears. She was expecting even less how his hand found hers and squeezed it as though he were in too much to bear alone, and when he sniffled, her heart felt as though it may explode within the minute.

“This war has taken the best and worst of each side of the battle line,” he noted emptily. “I came to this country ready to protect it. Where I come from, living to thirteen is an achievement and anything past that is dumb luck whereas people die at fifty and sixty here. I never thought I’d have another thing to lose when I left behind the island, and yet here I am like an idiot grieving over Washington, worrying about my army, longing for a companion…This whole business has made me soft.”

“Hardly, if I may say so, sir,” she interjected kindly.

With his eyes disbelieving, he turned to her fully. “Do explain yourself at once.”

“Caring about people is one of the only things that makes me feel alive. Maybe giving your heart and soul to every poor soul can be considered weakness, but protecting my family always has been and always will be my top priority.” As the young soldier spoke of her philosophy, she couldn’t help but feel like she was baring all despite being fully clothed in the usual thick, layered uniform. “If I didn’t have loved ones, I’d be purposeless. I’d have nothing to guide me one way or the other, and I’d always wonder what life could be like while…Well, while probably never giving any effort to make it happen. I’d be miserable.”

“Nobody to judge and conquer every action sounds like freedom,” he retorted, not unkindly. “It was nice only looking out for my own agenda. It was quite a bit less stressful, that’s for damn sure.”

“Does the relishing in someone else’s love and attention make it worth it, though?” She laced her hand in his on second nature and he did not flinch or turn away. “You have more than you could’ve ever imagined, it seems. Perhaps that brings much pain, but it also brings much joy to know you’ve lived for much more than simply your own demise.”

“…You’re damn smart, Pip-Pip,” Alexander finally announced while throwing his arm around her fully. “Even if I hate to admit it, you’ve got a solid point that I have no argument to. Consulate me later for a rematch of moral philosophy, alright?”

The notion could’ve been taking as him just toying with her empathy, but for all of his screamingly loud faults, she knew he was being genuine and bonding with her in his own way. “You could bet money on it, Mister Hamilton.”

She stood up and straightened her coat, giving him a last kind smile but sliding her hand free despite how nice his rough, always slightly moving hand felt in her smooth one. His eyes followed her toward the exit in a curious sense, one that almost prompted her to openly ask why before he spoke.

“Is something on your mind as well, sir?” He inquired in a serious, sincerely worried tone. “Most men wouldn’t so hastily enter if something were not the matter.”

Burr’s unforgiving grip flashed through her mind and kept the truth barred from her lips. “My complete satisfaction is not any concern of yours, sir. The lives we lead are hard but worth it, that’s all.”

Alexander didn’t look sold on the notion. “If you insist, good sir, but if something- or especially if some _body_ \- is trying to take advantage of your kind heart, I wish to make no understatement on how I’d wish you tell me. People like you are something we need to even out the less genuine and gentle, yeah?”

If that Aaron Burr went through with his threats, she’d be forced to reveal her true identity or be hung on the next morning’s light. In the best scenario thereafter, she’d be exiled from the city and colonies, forced to go to England or France to live the rest of her lonely, criminal life. In the less favorable she’d be jailed, and in the worst she’d be hung all the same for treason and a slew of other violations. Telling Alexander would only give her now enemy ammunition to throw defamation on her and rip out the truth so she wouldn’t be blatantly lying in court on God’s name, so the young Schuyler knew that keeping yet another secret was the only solution to a temporary problem solved.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she replied sincerely. “I do urge you to relax when the only issue with me is made up in your mind. Have a good night, sir.”

With that she ducked out of his quarters and hastily booked it back to her own tent, throwing open her personal bag and pulling out the various things she’d use in bathing. Being in such close proximity to Alexander reminded her of her beloved sibling’s comment that she smelled even worse than she looked- of course it was made from a place of concern, but it was still embarrassing- and if she were going to potentially die on the battlefield in glory, she was going to do it not smelling like some ruffian of a man. Gilbert, she was almost certain, was off drinking as if the world was collapsing as per usual, so she easily tucked her things into her coat before heading into the woods on Makaya for the somewhat close by lake.

“This will only be cold for a moment,” she told herself aloud as she stood several minutes later, her body only concealed lightly with the thick coat she’d usually wear on the outermost layer of clothing. “This will…this will only be freezing fucking cold…for a minute. 3…No, shit, God…5…4…3, 2, 1- AH!”

The water was barely above completely frozen, leaving her sputtering and heaving desperately as she clawed her way back to the shore. The poor Schuyler barely had the energy to pull on the coat and her stockings in desperation to warm her feet before collapsing under the exertion of violent shivering, the chill deep in her bones as she buckled over herself in a sad, partially frozen lump. Her instincts were imploring her to get up and at least dress properly before she even considered closing her eyes, but despite all of the bells ringing desperately in her head, her eyelids fluttered shut and there was nothing but how frozen she felt.

**....**

_“One and two and three and four and bow, curtsy, lower now or you’ll look like a floozy! And five, six, take her hand and keep your back straight! Two, two, seven and eight and nine and ten! Now, one, two…”_

_Eliza watched as her older sister danced along to the newest ballroom routine with one of the various neighborhood boys, one who looked beyond unamused with being forced by his mother to perform while Angelica was clearly concentrating intensely to please Mama. Since her big sister was seven and she was six, she’d been learning similar dances but at a much slower pace, mostly due to her complete lack of interest. She’d much rather be outside in the sun, her play clothes dirtied up freshly and her hair down rather than prodded and pulled until it was in a formal style for the lessons their neighbor taught. All of the mothers there save for Lady Church were clearly worn down by their children- two of them had babies now- and had firm grips on the older children planted reluctantly had their side. Her Mama was much nicer than that, sitting with her and Peggy on a cushion while their older sister danced eloquently._

_“Are you going to be Mommy’s little fairy?” Mama asked her warmly, her hand cupping her face despite how she crinkled it in disgust._

_“I wanna play outside,” she whined. “This is boring and Lady Jones is really mean.”_

_“You ‘want to’ play outside,” Mama corrected gently and firmly. “You may do what you like after this lesson, but not a second before you show us what you’ve learned. Am I understood, little one?”_

_“Mommiieeee!” She fussed even more, splaying out her legs in an undignified way and sliding pointedly off of their seating. “I wanna go noooow!”_

_“Elizabeth Schuyler, one more complaint out of that mouth and you’ll have no dessert tonight.”_

_This caught the child’s attention, sending her into reluctant resignation as she reseated herself properly. “Yes Mama.”_

_Lady Jones slammed the end of her cane harshly on the floor, a sound that made everyone jump and look to her. Angelica looked mortified, her entire body shaking as the older woman marched over and seized her by the nape of the neck. The boy she’d been dancing with scurried away immediately, ducking behind his exhausted mother’s skirts while Mama got to her feet as quickly as possible._

_“Unacceptable!” Lady Jones barked cruelly to the seven year old in her grip. “Eleven missteps and completely disregarding the rhythm when you are to maintain poise?! What has happened to my star pupil? Have you gone mad?!”_

_“I believe_ you _have gone quite mad!” Mama snapped, her voice stronger than the batty old woman’s. “You will unhand my daughter at once! She is only a girl of seven years, and you expect the same of her that you do the ladies of courting age. Yes, she must improve, but it will be years before she eligible for a proper ball regardless, so you will either treat her and all of these children with kindness or you should look forward to some very, very strong words concerning what you’re doing here as well as the withdrawal of all my business with you.”_

_The two women held eye contact for moments that felt like hours to the six year old before their teacher ducked her head in evident shame and let go of Angelica. Her older sister immediately ran behind Mama’s dress, a thing she hadn’t done since she turned her current age months ago (because ‘only cute babies did that’), and caught her older little sister’s eyes. Poor Angie looked ready to cry, so she quickly ran to her side and held her hand, gripping Mama’s skirt with the same clinginess and not daring to look at their instructor despite how mad she was for making her sister scared._

_“Come along, girl. Let’s see about getting you three a treat for all your hard work and we’ll go home, alright?” Mama smiled down at them warmly, all of that anger not present for them that she felt for the bully of a woman._

_“You mean I get to play after we have a treat??” Eliza asked excitedly and hopefully as their female parent gathered up their things and little Peggy swiftly._

_“Yes, my baby,” Mama conceded with a small chuckle._

_“YAY!”_

**....**

The memory was warm and surrounded every part of Pip’s being. For a moment, she imagined if she opened up her eyes, she’d be back to the kinder and simpler times when revolution wasn’t real and her mother was a loving, gentle and very intelligent lady not burdened by unspeakable tragedies. When she did come back to consciousness, she found her devoted Peggy leaned over her with a relieved but pained expression, and Gilbert’s voice to be somewhere around her but impossible to pin down the location of. Her entire body ached and her muscles slacked with exhaustion, but she still found the strength to gasp and sit up fully when she realized that she was completely in the nude.

“It’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just us!” Her younger sister exclaimed. “Jesus, Eli, lay down, lay down. What in the world were you thinking going in the lake like that?! We’re in the middle of winter! Just because the damn thing wasn’t completely ice doesn’t mean you take a dip in it!”

“W-wanted to bathe,” she managed, her voice raw and stricken with sinus trouble. “Fi-filthy…”

“Then grab one of the tubs, you apricot!” Peggy scolded. “You could’ve died out there! It’s a freaking miracle you made it back to shore!”

“She is right, Pip.” Gil’s voice sent shivers rocketed through her entire body; he was a man, and she was more than immodest despite how nice the warm water felt! “Next time you decide to bathe, tell one of us and we’ll set you up something better than hypothermia, hm?”

“Gilbert, get out!” She exclaimed, all traces of her fake voice squelched under panic. “No!! You cannot see me like this, don’t be…don’t-!”

“Eli, he’s intending to be married and hasn’t looked at your body!” Her sister grasped one of her hands, lifting it slightly from the water she found herself surrounded in and exposing it to the nipping of the night wind. “Sheesh, you think I’d let a pervert ogle over you while you were snoring? Please!”

Fresh water, some that felt moderately burning but amazing on her joints, poured over her and she couldn’t help but moan in relief. With her consciousness fully returned and vision no longer blurry from the fog of evident slumber, she observed that her head was hardly above a proper basin full of steaming water that was covered by some kind of massive tarp-tent, one that protected against the elements better than even the commander’s station. She yawned despite herself and sank back into the blissful warmth, a notion that made her sister smile and Gil step away from her direct line of sight.

Once she resurfaced, her male companion tossed a hefty bundle of fabric over their heads, landing against her sister. “I adore Pip to death, I am not going back out there to get another few gallons to heat for the seventh time. She- _he_ \- is awake and warm; he will be restored with a bit of medicine, food and rest.”

“Thank you both so much,” she voiced in a husky voice she didn’t have to consciously work to maintain for once. “You saved my life. I was so stupid.”

“It is a…how you say, ‘rookie mistake’,” Gil responded in his usual fond and easy tone. “We were drinking nearby, so when she heard a scream, we knew we had to investigate. I sent John and Hercules off for blankets and I found you, so I covered you up and carried you to your sister. She was the one who knew where the bathing chambers were and had us all get water while keeping us out until I finally showed her I was a modest, happily taken man.”

“H-how did you know…blankets…?”

“Oh, honey, you are not the first nor will you be the last newbie to try and use the lake as a place to rinse off,” he replied with a chuckle. “We had to fish out three men and basically slap the feeling back into another’s legs. It is only funny in hindsight, but they still won’t look us in the eye afterward.”

“The real miracle was getting the other nurses to leave this tent vacant for a few hours. This is the second best setup in the camp!” Peg exclaimed. “Thank God I won their favor over before we arrived and had some extra stuff to trade off.”

“I’ll restock whatever you need,” Pip assured at once. “Gilly, I’ll never be so stupid again, I promise. The last thing I ever wanted to do was slow you down, especially because of my own foolishness.”

“You are safe and that’s all that matters,” he insisted. “You can repay on the backline tending to our injured, oui?”

Her promise echoed in her head and she bit back a scowl of reluctance. “Of course.”

When the water covering her ran cold against her skin, Pip stood up for her sister to quickly help towel her off before dressing her in her thickest night clothes and her jackets. Together the two siblings made their way back to the elder’s tent, the towel still fastened around her wet hair, and got into the small cot.

“Are you sure you want me to stay?” Peggy whispered lethargically. “People are going to say we’re doing unspeakable things, I bet.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Pip murmured just as exhaustedly. “I’ll beat them up if they even think it.”

With a fond smile and another nestle in her warmth, the younger sister simply chuckled while she made her last remark of the evening. “Damn, maybe you _are_ Phillip Schuyler.”

* * *

As promised, the journey to their intended colony was not easy and a handful of men of men had predictably fled before it even began, but Alexander Hamilton was far too ready to exact revenge on the Redcoats to say much of it. He led the way on his stallion with Burr stationed at the rear just to keep some peace for once in a month before they did dirty work, and kept himself entertained with the jokes and stories from his beloved Laurens, who he put at his side along with the loyal, steady Tench Tilghman.

Crossing the Delaware was definitely the worst part of the trip. With his men clad with 60 rounds of ammunition and three days ration each, they’d fought through the terrible weather through the currents and rain/sleet/snow, rowing and bucking and hunkering for warmth against the frigid conditions. The ferries were lethargic and men were gradually falling overboard, including poor John Haslet, whose surrounding boat mates clambered to pull back in.

 As they desperately rowed on their way and tried to make up for lost time, Hamilton realized that among his trusted advisors and valuable assets on his own load was Mister Schuyler, the kind and fiery lad who’d comforted him a couple of days before at their old encampment. Though the young man was not among the most elite of their army, he had passion to rival his own and the speed/intelligence to match that of their upper ranks, so he didn’t necessarily mind his presence so much as question why he wasn’t back with someone else or in the medical crews with his sister.

“You know, I just realized something,” Schuyler noted in a soft, illness battered voice. “Today is Christmas Day.”

“No time to celebrate, I’m afraid,” Tilghman noted before he had to. “Victory or death, son. Victory or death.”

“Victory or death,” the younger man agreed, but when their forces were largely silent due to half catching a bit of desperately needed sleep, Alexander could hear him softly humming Christmas carols while he helped row their vessel across.

The march after was unforgiving and forced them to hold fast to each other so the blizzard-like weather didn’t send them sprawling into the snow banks. He’d approximately their march to at least a mile, maybe two, when their coordinates sent them heaving and stumbling to turn right, leading them along toward the sanctuary of Benjamin Moore. At this point he brought up the rear on his stallion to ensure nobody lost their way in the frozen chaos brought on by his strict regime, shouting encouragement to his men and constantly petting and prodding his beast with loving firmness that kept almost everyone going strong. He’d reckon even in the wakes of the tragedies they would’ve all made it by the blessing of the Lord if they’d been able to keep on schedule, but two of their soldiers perished and had to be left in the weather to not lose any more time.

He split their forces in half at Birmingham and let those of him rest once they reached the Moore residence; his softer side had grieved over the sight of so many of their bare feet staining the snow dark red with the rags doing nothing to protect them. Daylight broke out as he ate and drank alongside his soldiers, his own body stiff as he remounted his stallion and spent the rest of their march up and down the line, encouraging his men rather than chastising them and even taking one small nurse under his coat when she insisted she trek on as a first responder rather than station nearby with the others, especially those with children.

“God, I fear we’ve lost more of our men to exposure and illness than to anything else,” John Laurens groveled as they finally posted in preparation for a strong (albeit exhausted) advance. “Are you secure in your faith on this day, Lieutenant Hamilton?”

“I am resolved to take the Trenton,” Alexander replied with genuine confidence. “Victory or death, men. It has been an honor and I will see you on the other side. Now on my mark!”

In a possibly just grandeur move, he made the decision to ride ahead of his men along with his appointed generals in charge of this siege. Chaos overtook what little order all of his forces had, smoke filling up the air and deafening gunshots from every direction as he drew out his sword and began to seek for enemy to disarm and neutralize. Much to his horror, his beloved horse buckled underneath him after what must been an hour of battle, his leg bleeding profusely as he whinnied desperately and painfully. Using his blade jammed very lightly in the ground from pure adrenaline, Hamilton pushed the beast up to his three good legs and sent him flying back to where they’d posted with food with a desperate yell he hoped the animal could hear before he shot toward wherever the offended Hessian fought.

As the hours wore on, Alexander found a bit of relief in that most of the bodies scattered about were those of the Reds, not of the Patriots. He took to a rider less horse and drew up the flank of the army, warding off new attacks and sending enemies sprawling or dropping with his excessive ammunition and spite-fueled vigor. As the sky grew darker with the wearing on of this fateful day, Hamilton spotted the Hessian army- the one led by a man named Rall- approaching the northern town’s flank. He ordered his men into battle formation, watching with pride and battle cries as they surrounded the enemy troops from three sides, and finally exclaimed a sound of hefty relief when he saw the Redcoats scatter out of their usually cutter-precise formation.

“March on, my brave fellows!” The lieutenant commander shouted. “After me! We finish this now!”

Their forces rushed down from their high ground, cornering the Hessians near the orchard. It was only then he propositioned the terms of surrender, a notion they immediately took up on for the sake of keeping their men alive and not prisoners of war. In the aftermath, he’d learn his troops had taken the nearby bridge and halted a retreat from the Reds, a notion that made him smile and congratulate them with overflowing pride. He also learned quickly that one James Monroe had been nearly fatally shot in the shoulder, something that encouraged him to check on their medical units to ensure the honorable (though slightly insufferable gentleman) pulled through to see this grand victory.

“Good evening, everyone,” he greeted tiredly as he reached the tent in question and clasped the hand of the first resting, young soldier he saw. “It is a grand day for our nation, ladies and gentleman. I commend you all deeply on your bravery and resilience; I deeply underestimated what you were capable of. It is practically law each of you will hear it before we move on.”

“Mister- Lieutenant- Commander…Shit! Whatever!! Alexander!!” Phillip Schuyler quickly ran up to him, his hands in a periocular clasp across the fabric his thighs during his haste and dropping the second he arrived. “Mister Monroe’s wound has ceased bleeding and Doctor Riker says he will more than likely live to many more days. This is a glorious victory indeed, sir!”

“Schuyler, pray you confirm or deny this…” The slightly older man asked as he clasped the hands of the smaller soldier. “You were among those to help transport Mister Monroe back here, yes? I thought I saw your ribbon underneath a fallen man during the battle, but I understand didn’t have time to process it.”

The nineteen year old’s cheeks lit up with a flush. “I was certainly not the only one, but yes sir, I did assist. I was close by when he fell and was more on the defense rather than offensively perusing, as I were catering to a promise I made to Lafayette, and had to assist him to the best of my ability.”

The bravery of the lad in front of him was almost strong enough to see through one of his deepest, most surprised compulsions to kiss the man. He caught himself almost immediately and simply embraced his comrade tightly, but the shame of it lit his own cheeks as he spoke briefly with the heroic doctor and checked on the four other injured men in the tent. Since he first came to America at the ripe age of ten on a ship with his poor mother, he’d had these urges and thoughts about men and women alike, but the law forbade him from ever speaking out to it above a few very select souls. Who in which he confided in since the war began was his Laurens, another ‘lost soul’ who he’d kissed during a drunken stupor and made love two completely sober not even a week later. Despite their relationship being top secret and very limited since Burr was assigned to be stuck up his ass, he still felt it blasphemous to consider being with another man when his John was astutely loyal in the meantime for him alone.

“Come now, sir,” one of the more perky medical men implored. “Let us go celebrate this victory. I must get you to General Greene at once, sir, do have a bit of gin for the betterment of your soul.”

Despite learning Generals Cadwalader and Ewing weren’t able to cross the Delaware with their approximately 2,600 men due to the unforgiving conditions, he also was informed of all the bountiful supplies they got for almost every unit of the army, so losing the chance to battle more after all they’d been through was not something he grieved terribly. Alexander instead drank and finally celebrated the birth of Christ with his confidantes and fellow soldiers, drinking the excess supply easily with them and cladding himself with decent boots while feeding properly. By noon they’d been able to more easily make their way back the Delaware and station in Pennsylvania, where almost everyone collapsed in deep, essentially unable to disturb slumber once things were pitched. The prisoners were sorted out and the supplies were disturbed by intelligence while he retired to his quarters, where he finally found his Laurens waiting in his bed with a dandelion hanging out of his mouth like a rose.

“Hey there, boss,” the older man breathed, revealing by sitting back on his elbows he was almost entirely naked. “I wanted to join in the celebration.”

Tasks likely had to be attended to effective immediately. The British would likely send a counter attack in, the men would need to be rallied soon enough after they finally rested, the intelligence had to be checked and other responsibilities he couldn’t name off the top of his head but had engraved in his gut. Despite it all, as Alexander Hamilton stood in front of the man he loved so very dearly with Burr somehow displaced enough to cause his unofficial partner’s confidence in doing something so risky, he remembered Schuyler’s words and slipped beneath the sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave a kudos/bookmark/subscribe/leave a review if it so compels you! Check out our ask blog, and we'll see you again a Wintertime Ball! ;) ♥


	5. Displayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are not able to be ebbed away by celebration. For the sake of those who fight ever-still for the prosperity and creation of their America, this fact will not deter from their attempts to forget it all, even if just for forty eight hours, and be contently happiness regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very, very long. My brain feels very, very shot after writing it, and I am immensely relieved to have completed it now. Please enjoy the fruits of my loving, intent labor! Your support means everything to my darling co-creator, Amanda, and I! ♥♥♥

When Pip began the first day of the army’s ‘downtime’, she wasn’t anticipating being dragged unceremoniously into tent that Hercules, John and two other men shared.   The person pulling her along was her beloved tailor friend, and when he insisted she sit tight and wait for him to get the others, she knew this announcement was likely to be serious. With morning sleep still gradually ebbing away to make room for conscious thought, she sat obediently and rubbed her eyes, longing for at least one cup of coffee before she was assaulted with the dire news of the day.

“ _Mon Dieu_ , Hercules!” Gil exclaimed as he was dragged in. “What is all the rush? It is hardly past dawn, you madman!”

“There is no time for waiting!” Hercules refuted passionately, essentially pushing his companion down before marching back out, likely to locate his tent mates who were equally as likely hiding from him.

“Did he mention what this about to you?” Gilbert asked after a few moments of silence, yielding her to simply shrug and brush away her hair into a new ponytail. “Well, let us hope it is not all that serious, my friend. I had full intentions of utilizing downtime to write back to my home country and catch up much needed sleep.”

“I should probably write home myself, at least through my sister,” she remarked in her usual ‘man’ voice, clearing her throat to attempt to bid away the morning fog from her vocal chords as well. “Ugh. You would think this place really is making a man out of me yet.”

“At least you’re a pretty man,” the Frenchman teased fondly, earning him a playful push and chuckle from the young woman in disguise.

It was not long before all five members of their friend group were inside the designated tent with Hercules standing before them with an excited grin on his face, which at least suggested this news wasn’t as heftily depressing as both Gil and Phillip had thought before. Alexander looked absolutely exhausted, far more so than the rest of them, and rested his head against his folded hands before him while John swished around a can of strong smelling coffee before drinking it in gulps.

“I know you’re all wondering why I pulled you in here, so I’ll just go right out and say it,” their tailor of a companion announced. “We’ve all been cordially invited to a ball! All of the armies in the surrounding areas have been invited, and while not all of the men will go on the same evening so it’s safe, Washington has cleared us to celebrate with them for both nights after all we’ve done for the Revolution!”

“You’re kidding!” Laurens livened up immediately, his face that of a much younger man full of fire and pure excitement. “Really?? At long, long last, we finally get a reward!”

“One might argue that the reward is freeing this country, mon ami,” Gil refuted with his eyebrow quirking up, but it was impossible to miss just how much he was buzzing himself at the idea of celebration and relaxing with good food, great friends and lots of women (and alcohol.)

“Obviously America isn’t freeing herself in any hurry, so yes, that’s the _ultimate_ reward, but that stuff is hard as hell and doesn’t fill the soul and stomach very often,” John shot back in a strained-to-be-casual voice laced with defensiveness. “Damn, you act like we all haven’t sacrificed almost everything to be here and put our lives on the line every second!”

“If ever there was a reason to let us let loose for a bit, I believe that Johnny has proved the point,” Pip chimed in gently, her hands extending to squeeze one of each of her bickering friends. “War takes a toll too great to explain. We deserve a break right now and I’ll be damned if anyone says we don’t need it.”

“Here hear!” All four of her companions chorused, a prospect that made a blush tint her cheeks and smile.

“Hercules, when and where is this taking place? Do you know who’s hosting it? How did you get word of this before I did?” Alexander was back on his feet again as he approached the other. “And did Washington give any more vital updates about the war efforts he’s leading in person?”

“Yet another delivery man thought that the commanding officer’s tent was the one at the base of camp rather than the head,” Mulligan responded while rolling his eyes and removing a handful of thick letters from inside his vest. “I didn’t read the rest because they’re addressed to your position, but this invitation wasn’t marked and I got bored waiting for your ass to get up. As for your other questions, it’ll be back in New York, and as a matter of fact, the people hosting it are our Pip-Pip’s family! Congratulations, man, I’m sure you and Peggy will love being able to see them again, and we finally get to meet them!”

All the joy felt as though it had been drained from Pip in that instant, though he tried not let it show to arouse concern. Gilbert’s eyes immediately met with hers, considering that he knew better than anyone just _why_ the news brought on onslaught of conflicting feelings, but she simply shook her head and made her way quickly out of the tent. Before she made any rash decisions, she needed to find her sister and let her know before she found out secondhand. The second oldest Schuyler searched the entirety of their camp twice over, her nerves only fraying more desperately when her searches yielded nothing but some very disgruntled nurses who weren’t pleased to be woken by a desperate soldier. When she finally looked her, she was a little bit more than slightly shocked to find she’d been hiding behind the tent she was in all along within the thick folds, and instead of her usual nurse’s uniform or clothing, she was clad only in a shirt and a pair of men’s trousers that fit her around but were far too long for her.

“Margarita!” She hissed at once, a blush exploded across her own face as the implications settled over her mind of what her sister had been doing. “Have you lost your damn mind, young lady?!”

“I don’t know who you are thinking you can talk to me that way!” The younger Schuyler immediately protested despite how brightly her own face was burning with humiliation and shame. “It is not unusual for people to meet and fall…into close relations over the course of living near each other! It happens all the time, as a matter of fact!”

“That doesn’t mean you ought to be doing such risky behavior in such a formal, dangerous place!” Pip refuted passionately. “Get up, get up!”

The nineteen year old was so flustered that she seized her younger sister by the ear and marched her through the back pathways to her tent, where she quickly pushed her inside and looked around anxiously before ducking in after her. Peggy rubbed her ear as she sat inside, her face screwed up with frustration and resentment as she made a point of scooting away from her sibling with a haughty huff.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the older sister commanded grumpily. “I have important news to say while you’re off nattering with the abolitionists.”

“Spit it out then!” The younger complained while folding her arms in front of her chest. “What could be so important you’re intent on embarrassing me?!”

“Our family is hosting a ball that this camp is invited to!” She exclaimed in a hiss through her teeth, and her sibling immediately stiffened her back and visibly got serious. “As a matter of fact, this unit is allowed to celebrate both days as a reward for all of our treacherous and deadly efforts. Can you explain to me what in the Hell I’m meant to do for avoiding our parents? You’ll be alright because they can’t make you return if you refuse, but if they catch me I’m done in all aspects of my life, not just in the army!”

“Well, then we’re just going to have to focus on not getting you caught,” Peggy replied resolutely. “You’re going to be in disguise anyway, and I’m sure the venue where she is happening is very extensive. Couldn’t you just lie and say you don’t like parties, or that you’d rather guard or something?”

“They’d never believe me. I’ll have done is talk about how much we all love each other,” Pip said with a grimace. “I thought that my introducing to them would be a very long time from now, maybe when I could be completely honest…God, I am a fool.”

“Come on, Bets, how were you supposed to know?” The eighteen year old countered while pulling her tightly into a hug. “We’re going to figure this out. Maybe you could reason that you don’t want them to suede your judgement?”

“You being here kind of throws that out of the window. The Schuyler family is very, very proudly Patriotic, and with Papa being a war veteran as well in the earliest days of the Revolution? I don’t think so.”

“Then we’re just going to have to keep well-disguised and out of mind!” Peggy’s eyes were glinting brightly in light seeping in through the tent’s walls, and the young soldier couldn’t help but embrace the fact that any man would be truly foolish not to court and pursue her younger little sister, even if such dire and difficult circumstances.

“I know Angelica will want to see me,” she replied while nodding nervously. “We should at least allow that, but as for the rest of them…it’s for the best I’m just another face in the crowd. And what are we to do about my friends? They want to meet them, and if they strike up conversation, the truth is coming to come out in the worst possible way.”

“…What if put yourself in even more elaborate disguise?” Her sister suddenly suggested, as though she’d just had the most brilliant epiphany.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, this affair is already a bit dangerous. Putting a bunch of young soldiers in an open space where they’re likely to be vulnerable is just prosperous when spoken plainly,” Peggy elaborated excitedly. “There’s no chance that there won’t be extensive guarding and security measures to keep Revolutionaries and civilians all safe, so instead of making up an excuse about your relation to our family, just say you insist on remaining along those lines for the majority of the evening in a disguise so you won’t be pulled away by our family. That way, you are safe, nobody but Angelica has to know, and it makes sense!”

“That’s a great idea, Peg, but where on Earth am I supposed to get a disguise?”

A mischievous grin spread across her little sister’s face, one that unnerved Pip far more than any of the other concepts presented in the recent time frame. “Trust me, I’ve got a few ideas.”

* * *

 

Alexander, for whatever it was worth, allowed his more stylistically inclined friends to get their hands on him in order to him to look his best for the ball. It was because of their efforts that he was now in a freshly cleaned uniform, and beneath he wore a like-new white blouse that they’d paid to have folded and pressed. His dress trousers fit him well- Hercules had made them himself and insisted they ‘filled out his undercarriage’, whatever that meant- and his knee-highs were brand new, a gift from Lafayette that made him tear up. At least his boots, well-worn from years of wearing and made to last, were familiar, and the newly cut and tied ribbon bow was made from the same spool he’d originally purchased the day he arrived in the country. His hair was freshly scrubbed and brushed into the neatest ponytail he’d ever had, his stubble was carefully shaved, and he smelled all over of lavender, aloe and soap as he arrived on the scene in the carriage he’d been sharing for the past couple of hours with his closest comrades.

“You’re so pretty, Lexi,” Laurens teased now, as though he hadn’t been the one to suggest they make him ‘presentable’.

“Speak for yourself, Jackie,” he refuted with a fond grin. “I’ve never seen you look so presentable. Are you sure you’re the same men?”

“Children, children, behave yourselves!” Gilbert responded with a smirk and a laugh. “Can’t you feel, mon amis?”

“Feel what?” Hercules raised an eyebrow as he wiped his hands from what must have been the fiftieth time.

“Love is in the air tonight!” The Frenchman exclaimed with a wanderlust look out of the windows of their travelling receptacle. “And we are here! I shall dance and celebrate as though we are already free on this wondrous evening, and I suggest you do the same while we are young and can!”

“I am just so ready to see my Elizabeth again,” Hercules commented wistfully, wiping his hands a final time before nervously tucking his handkerchief into his coat. “It was be so long since I held her sweet embrace…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re married, we get it,” John refuted with a playful nudge to his friend. “Get out of here, man. Go kiss your lady and know you won’t die alone.”

With a final grin and wink, Hercules ducked out and made his way into the crowd, blending in with his beautifully designed underclothing and styled hair. Hamilton watched as John ducked out next, whooping and showing off the nearby ladies with his coat flying up behind him with the effort of jumping. Lafayette made sure the youngest member of their party was alright, asking a couple of times if he was positive he didn’t want to join them and looking concerned when he was refuted, but he finally made his own way with his head held high and charming smile plastered broadly across his face.

“It just doesn’t seem right for you to be at guard at your own family’s party,” he finally remarked himself as Phillip- though he hardly looked of the Schuyler lineage now- huddled in the corner of the carriage. “Let me take your place if you’re that intent on it. I’m no aristocrat; I’ll probably embarrass you if I go.”

“Don’t be silly, sir,” the other youth refuted easily. “I assure you that I will be spending all the time lost this evening with my family with them in our free nation. In the meantime, I want to ensure they’re safe, and I won’t relax a single breath unless I know I am contributing to it.”

“It still doesn’t seem right,” he confessed before studying his hands to say his next thought. “Though…If you don’t mind me saying, Pip, you do genuinely look very attractive as a lady.”

The color painted the young Revolutionary’s cheeks immediately, burning a bright shade of red that seemed to be infectious in worsening Hamilton’s own. Rather than the other nineteen year old’s usual masculinity-trademarked long brown hair in a ribbon, his head was adorned with a rich blonde wig, one that had bangs and was styled so intricately along and up the back that he knew it must have cost a fortune alone. His face was a canvas of makeup, powders and paints, and truth be told he looked soft and feminine, and if he didn’t know better he’d claim he was natural a lady as his own manhood. If he were a real elite lady, however, he’d be far more hesitant in commenting upon the peculiar objects stuck to his normally flat chest that looked and moved so convincingly that he’d swear they were _real_.

“I say, sir…” He inquired aloud with a small, sly smile. “How ever did you get those two lumps of mass upon your front? They are extraordinarily convincing.”  

The way the color deepened to an almost angry scarlet, Alexander could have sworn he really _was_ a woman as he spoke in a voice coated with wavy confidence. “M-my sister knows quite a bit about these things. If I told you, she may have my head for it; the women have their secrets, too.”

He smiled and extended out his hand, taking his smaller one with a gentle squeeze before having the thought to reluctantly let it go immediately thereafter. “Of course, my good friend. I apologize for intruding.”

Phillip simply responded with a tight, forgiving smile before slowly climbing out of the carriage himself, his skirts trailed behind him in bunches as he hastily straightened them back out. “Have a nice evening, Lieutenant Hamilton. I’ll see you at the end of night.”

As Schuyler made his way into the masses and was swallowed in the plethora of fabric and bodies, Alexander took a long moment to himself to straighten his neck piece and hair as the color faded from his cheeks. He knew he was an immensely hard commander to deal with, even before he’d been put into a place of being proven wrong with the fellow army man, so the fact that he had such wonderful friends and still had the alliance of one of the small men he’d targeted so heavily was beyond him. Men and women alike would be slaughtered (or attempted at for murder) for far less where he came from, a beautiful but terrible island ripped by war, suffering and slaves, and yet here in this country and this family he’d made for himself he found constant forgiveness and flexibility every way he turned from those he carried to impress. For his enemies and disdainful subordinates, he had too much power and honor to be overly bothered by what they said and swore at beneath their breath.

“Lieutenant Hamilton?” A female voice called out, and he spotted the young catch with her outfit eloquently done and face coy as she locked eyes with him. “Don’t tell me you’d like to spend this evening holed away with the coachmen and horses, now! Won’t you come and make my acquaintance?”

With a smile to mirror hers and careful climbing to the cobblestone, he formerly agreed with a flirtatious smile and led the young lady into the building. He soon found it easy to lose himself within the glamour of such a carefully planned and smoothly orchestrated event, whether it be in indulging himself to the food or practicing dances with so many women he felt he may never move other way for all of his life. He’d even been fortunate to steal a couple of dances from Laurens, who was so happily boozed up and messily silly that it inspired others to joy his now sweeter disposition, and even managed one from the ever-thoughtful but relaxed Lafayette. Hercules had tried his best to teach a four-person dance alongside his sweet Elizabeth, who turned to be a very pretty girl with some of most unique facial features he’d ever seen, but it had quickly become clear that Hamilton was still a travesty on the dancing floor and they’d settled inside for pleasant talk before she whisked away for her favorite dance to her favorite melody.

“It is difficult to be alone when the night is so young and rich with affection, is it not?” Lafayette thankfully came to his rescue as he awkwardly tried to find something to do as all the couples quickly paired up and began to kiss/dance/both.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them…” His eyes scanned the room and fell onto another considerable cluster of around twenty to thirty men, all clad in their soldiers’ uniforms and looking positively miserable in contrast to all the affection. “But geez, aren’t we the poor bastards?”

The Frenchman chuckled and rotated his drink around his dominant hand thoughtfully, eyes trained on the strangely colored alcohol. “I do not mind myself. After all, I am very committed to the prospect of finding someone to spend forever rather than take flings on.”

“Unfortunately, not everyone is as lucky as Herc,” he pointed out with a sigh. “She’s a radiant lady, that’s for sure.”

“The love and respect those two have is the goal,” the taller man resolved before dragging down the rest of his drink. “I do not know, little lion; wouldn’t it be perfect to have the most permanent anchor to this great country like a wife from this land of opportunity and dreams?”

He gave him a playful salute now, chest puffed out and chin held somewhat high. “I wish you the best, _Marie-Joseph_.”

Immediately he was pulled from his relaxed positioned and put into a headlock, one that he laughed into and squirmed vehemently against. “Such bold talk from a man in grabbing distance!! I must remind you that you’re hardly a commander here, Hamilton!”

“Unhand me or it’s your ass when we return to the field!” He protested playfully, finally squirming free and giving him an indignant light slap on the head before attempting to lose himself back in the chaos.

Most people would mind the noise, he supposed. If a man were moving aimlessly through thralls of people, all reeking of their perfumes and natural odors with their foreign hands, feet, clothes and hair pushed against him at every turn, he’d likely be pushing simply to get into a place with much more space. For Alexander, however, it was almost comforting to know that there was so many among and around him that had possibility to gain control over. This was a celebration, not the heart of the war, but they were all Patriots that would be called and ready to take a stand if something came awry. The entire building and outdoors were overtaken with the young and alike, the weathered experienced and bright-eyed rookies, but they were all gathered to give life to an often desolate cause. In the grasps of all these Revolutionaries, he could almost disappear and cease to worry like he always did, and it was that sweet taste of freedom that he was renewed in internalizing to find every waking day.

“Alexander Hamilton, if I could have your time, sir.”

At first, the nineteen year old didn’t hear her voice clearly, but he was able to see her plump lips moving and her uniquely colored, curled hair pulling her away from the burrows of other Patriots. She was certainly stunning in her rose colored dress, her walk business-like and purposeful as she pulled him along by the arm until they broke into a more private sector of the building this event was lighting up the night in. He forced himself to look into her gaze directly as she finally released him, her thin and groomed fingers going briefly to smooth out her skirts before getting right back to some unseen business.

“You may not know who I am, but I am more than aware of _you_ ,” she announced in a crystal clear tone, her last word coming out like a bad taste from her mouth.

“That is typically the case for those who concern themselves with infrastructure of war,” he commented somewhat tentatively before his defense mechanism slid back into place. “I may not be aware of your social standing nor your name, but pray you are not here to chide or discredit me, ma’am. The rank of lieutenant is not one easily obtained, and I assure you that despite my current mood I will not take cordially to listening to someone…such as you speak slander upon my honor.”

“You ought to get control of your temper, good sir. It is not becoming of a man in charge,” she shot back coldly. “I am here to speak with you about critical information. If I were to defame your character, you would have no standing in this event regardless of who your father is, and I suggest you remember it should you dare mouth to me in such a way again.”

Color exploded across his face like gunpowder from a canon, and he thought better of snipping back. “I meant no unprecedented disrespect, ma’am. I also do not mind to sound like a child, but were you not the one who spat my title as though it were sour? The social standing of men and women ought to be equal to the very ends of my concern, but you will not be subject to formality and empty cordial gestures if you behave as though you’re better than me, even if it’s true.”

He didn’t miss how her own cheeks became flush, but the twinkle in her eye told him he’d lost before she responded. “My dearest little brother is under your jurisdiction. Do try to remember your own claims laid here going forward if you want to avoid being hypocritical.”

“And who are you?” He finally thought to ask in a stunned, half-exasperated voice.

“Angelica Schuyler Church. I must admit I am surprised you were not already familiar.”

This woman had an incredible amount of gall. She had a razor-sharp tongue, her claims brought out boldly and in matter of fact tone, and he would be lying to say it did stir anger and passion from deep within his bones. Regardless of how such a short conversation drove him to a point of maddening silence, he would also be lying to say that it did not break the fog of relaxation with splintering clarity. For all of the faults she was already prone to have, she made him feel quite alive, and he at once understood how she was the older sister of Pip. They were both embracing of their imperfections, thoughtful and wickedly smart, and she was all he could ask for a confidant life partner if she was even a sliver of the gritty braveness or kindness her brother had shown.

“You already know my name,” he finally said, extending a hand cautiously with his palm up. “Please do not throw me aside because of things you understand but perhaps have not given a thorough non-biased inspection to. Perhaps I am not the villain you insist now I am.”

Flickers of doubt flashed across her face as it softened and she accepted his touch and polite kiss of greeting and peace. “I hardly consider you a villain, Mister Hamilton. As a matter of fact, I view you quite well save for what my loving brother has stated of your less desirable personality traits. I was under the impression you were in need of a proper knocking to reasonable ego, but perhaps I was mistaken. I pray it be so, but do not get used to the rarity of this position.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he agreed earnestly with a mischievous smile ghosting his lips. “So what was it you desired to pass along to me so urgently?”

“It is news about Jefferson,” she admitted with her expression becoming more somber at once. “He is advancing at an unprecedented rate. A letter was intercepted by one of the generals standing guard near my estate pertaining to his recent criminal activity, and I am afraid it is terribly grave.”

All of the laughter and jubilancy drained from him like a stopper yanked from a drain. “Tell me everything, Madame Church.”

* * *

 

“Don’t you think this is the most beautiful place on this grand estate?” Peggy’s voice was at a normal volume for the first time since the party began as she looked up to her beloved. “I cannot think of anyone better to have shown this to.”

“You mustn’t be unreasonable, my darling. You said you discovered this place with your older brother and sister, right?” John was before her with his hands interlaced in and over hers, his breath soaked with spirits but speech mostly coherent.

“And my little brother John,” she chimed in. “He could hardly believe it and would scream when one of us would stand or lean over his view. He’s been fascinated with the sky ever since that night.”

To some people, the little pocket of paradise that merged nature with architectural privacy wouldn’t look like much. It was an even corner of a room, one that had an unfinished ceiling and just enough room for a few children to fit and move around as long as they weren’t in a direct, full line. It was sloppily painted over (thanks to the efforts of she and her sisters) and the coating peeled away thanks to weathering, not to mention the faint, mossy odor always emanating from the floorboards, but the most spectacular view was able to be beheld even without going outdoors. She wished there were more places like this slice of beauty in the world aside from the estate her family almost famously rented at least six times per year, but for now, she happily enjoyed the time had in this almost second home.

“My, my, Miss Schuyler,” Laurens murmured as they swayed back and forth in each other’s arms, their faces intimately close. “You have stolen away my affections all at once, it seems.”

“And whose fault is that?” She teased fondly. “If they were so open for the grabbing, I am not to blame.”

“I have remained a single man for quite some time before you slipped your way into my life, my good woman. I must place the blame mostly on your dainty shoulders,” he refuted into a fond tone before placing another chaste kiss to her lips.

“If you must!” She explained softly and dramatically before wrapping her arms around his neck and dipping back as though she were faint.

“You are such a dollop of joy,” he gushed to her before pulling her back against him properly, his feet making the floorboards moan under his stumbling weight before he plopped onto his backside while taking her with him with a thud on his lap.

“Damn you!” She squeaked in protest. “You’ve nursed the alcohol far too much! You will get me hurt at this rate!”

“You are a nurse though!” He whined as his hands hurried to the sides of her face. “Surely you’d do fine even if my clumsiness gets you a bit banged up. I’d never harm you on purpose, but I’d hate to not share my first love during a party’s duration.”

 “And why is it that you become so dedicated to the concept of clouding yourself with the juice bar’s selections?” The younger woman quirked up an eyebrow. “Surely you can have a lovely time without it.”

He snorted hard. “Just because you haven’t committed yourself to it like me doesn’t mean you have right to pass judgement across me. The ways of the world are meant to be forgotten.”

“Why would you commit yourself to serving in these efforts if you prefer to pretend they never happened? It seems as though it would be an endless, painful game of chasing ones tale.” She took to stroke his face as he’d done with him, only for him to crumple up his expression and neatly push her from the tops of his thighs to his knees.

“I know you don’t think you have right to think of me poorly when you haven’t the slightest concept of what I’ve been through.”

The look she gave him must have proven that was far from the correct or gentlemanly thing to say, for he leaned forward with his fingers lacing down and across her own. “Look, I’m sorry; you’ve seen shit I couldn’t handle, I’m quite sure. You must understand my judgement gets severely crutched when I’m inebriated, however-”

“Inebriation is not an excuse to be a jerk, nor a bully, nor a danger!” Peggy quickly squirmed out of his arms and crossed her arms, looking down on him with hard lack of amusement.

“P-Pegs…”

She simply turned her back on him with hurt stinging her eyes in the form of moisture. Of course she was aware when her feelings first began brewing that he was much older than her and more experienced in the ways of the world and therefor more set in his ways, but that hardly gave her comfort now. If all he was going to amount to was a reckless soldier and sloppy drunk, he was hardly the type of man she’d allow to court her despite the intimacy they shared in the secrecy of the dark. It was now that she thanked her lucky stars she’d not allowed herself to be fully deflowered by the man now coughing hard and rubbing at his splotchy face; he was hardly what she’d need in the long run if he did not clean his act up hurriedly. Her parents would be embarrassed by him, truly, and even the usual swell of excitement that would come from pissing her asshole birth givers was vacant.

“I will try to be better for you.”

She tensed up; how many times had well-meaning men said the same and failed miserably, embarrassingly even? “How am I to believe that?”

“Because I’m a man of my word and I’m a man of honor!” John got up nosily now, and she could imagine his fierce expression despite his still shaky posture. “I am in love with you, Margarita Schuyler, and I mean every word of when I have said I intend to take your hand to a better life in our brand new nation!”

The thought made the tears run freshly as she whirled around to face him, expression pained and splintering into hope despite how she attempted to continue steeling herself. “Must you be so genuine and reliable all the time? You are making it very hard for me to keep barriers up around you, you know.”

The twenty six year old leaned down at the waist carefully, rocking back and forth as he tried to keep steady, and she immediately reached to steady him when he carefully took her hands and pressed gentle kisses each digit of her fingers. “I am absolutely smitten.”

The young couple slowly began to sway again, eyes intent to the others, as music floated through the corridors and reverberated softly against the walls of this private place. A breeze above rustled the leaves overhead and a flowery caught hard in the current of wind, spinning and spiraling until it landed noiselessly on the hem of John’s jacket. At first, she tried to do the polite thing and simply ignore it, then decided it better to simply pluck it off. Unfortunately, the poor dewy petals clung to his fabric, and when she finally removed it, it left a flower shaped indent against the dark blue jacket. For a long moment, there was only the sound of the night. Then, the older man began to choke on giggles before bursting into loud, unashamed laughter, encouraging her to do the same and hold him into an embrace as she apologized fondly through her humor.

“Peggy?” The sound of Angelica’s voice is what finally sent the two lovers to calm themselves, albeit with a lot of difficulty as they continued to hold tightly to the other. “Peggy, are you back here? Mother and Papa want to see you at once, you have to come out!”

The youngest Irish triplet let out a quiet sigh and looked up to her man, her gentleman with curls and a smile that could light up the entire gala, with a resigned and tight smile. “We’ll meet up again later.”

“It was a pleasure now. I shall look forward to our next session alone,” he replied flirtatiously but sincerely, pressing a sweet kiss to her forward before watching as she scurried out of the half room to greet her oldest sibling.

“Hey!” The eighteen-year-old called out as she wound back through the first two hallways they’d taken. “Angie!”

“There you are!” Angelica swiftly came to her from the end of the second corridor, wrapping one of her younger sister’s arms in her own securely. “Come quickly now, they’ve been waiting quite impatiently.”

“Do they know about…Pip?” Peggy quickly asked in a loud whisper as she was swiftly led back through the path to the main area.

“No,” the older sister reassured as the music became fully audible and the dozens of lights illuminating the room were again visible. “Make sure you do not slip and say anything for it now. Where is she?”

She began to answer before considering this may a trick. “I will tell you after.”

“Very well. Mama, Papa! There you are!”

As two of the oldest Schuyler siblings approached their parents, Peggy couldn’t help but notice immediately how devoid of life both of them looked before they heard Angelica’s greetings. Both of them undoubtedly had more wrinkles than before, worry lines deeply imprinting around her father’s eyes and frown marks seemingly freshly torn around her mother’s mouth. Even as they quickly made their way to their daughters, they seemed almost ghostly, like they had nothing really to inspire them other than cordial formality or need to suffer. She wondered with a pang of guilt if this was her fault.

“Margarita!” Papa threw out his arms and pulled his youngest Irish triplet to him lightly, his head bowing to cover hers with his chin as his entire body trembled. “Margarita, oh…Oh, my little Peggy, you are _alive_. This is the best knowledge I have ever possessed, my darling daughter! Pray God!”

“Papa, I just went out to be a nurse,” she pointed out carefully, but her own eyes were welled with tears as she wrapped her own arms around his neck tightly. “I am glad to see you again.”

Their embrace lasted for a few long, emotion-filled moments before they slowly separated, leaving Peggy to face her mother for the first time since that bitter day she’d been thrown out of the house. Catherine Van Rennselaer Schuyler looked across her daughter with a cool expression, one so neutral it was difficult to read, and immediately the young adult began filling in the blanks of her silence. She’d inevitably play as though she were the victim with manufactured tears, and she’d likely be lucky if the older woman didn’t completely make a scene about ‘betrayal’ and ‘lack of respect’. Truly, the young woman was just praying that she wouldn’t be forcibly be removed from her service by her mother’s wrathful influence and her father’s finality as the patriarch of their family; if that were to happen she’d be wed to someone she did love and was _kin to_ before the week ended.

“Margarita.”

“Yes, M…Mama?”

“Are you hurt or otherwise injured?”

“N-no, Mama.”

“No bandages and nothing is broken?”

“No Mama.”

“I’d ask of your mental state, but clearly you have lost most of your sanity that the Lord once blessed you with to join the war as a battlefield nurse-”

“Mother!”

Her mother simply gave a thin smile, one that was a ghost of what it’d once almost always been when they were both so much younger. The matriarch of the Schuyler family then stepped the distance between she and her daughter, pulling her tightly to her chest with her hands coming to rest carefully on the younger lady’s back. Peggy was stunned into stillness for a couple of moments before basically throwing herself against her mama’s embrace, tears springing to her eyes as she clutched tightly to the woman she would never, _could never_ , truly hate or even stay properly furious at. If she was being honest with herself, she’d always been more of a ‘Mommy’s girl’ from the time she was born, and to be held and quietly reassured by the parent she’d looked up to the most for all this time made the tears properly fall and her fingers curl to keep hold of her.

“I have missed you,” Mama finally announced more clearly, pulling just slightly away from her red-faced, sniffling daughter. “I was…wrong to eject you from our home when you were in just as compromised as a position as we were. I would like you to come back.”

Even if she’d been expected a request/demand somewhere along those lines, the actual presentation of it made Peggy’s lungs feel as though they’d been pressed hard to remove all the air from them. The implications that her mother were putting down were that she’d finally looked past her own insecurities and problems to see one of if not more of the problems that had been plaguing them long before the matching ceremony, and if that were possible, it was quite likely that they could finally be fixed. Their successful family could finally be a place of love and companionship after so long of their pretending that the others didn’t exist or were nothing more than burdens, and when the time came for her to marry, perhaps she could even marry the one she loved with their blessings. The ideas were painted vividly in Margarita’s mind now, so real she could almost touch them, but then cast a look over and saw her countrymen. They may drink and joke and dance tonight, but on the line of fire, they’d been dying and injured deeply. Many would not see the glory of their new country, many still would come into it with wounds that were either disabling, terribly visible, or deeper than the skin. These brave soldiers were going to need as many capable, steady-handed nurses as they could possible get, and if it meant putting the dreams of what she wanted her position and life with her parents and siblings on hold...well, then so be it. If Mama’s words were sincere, they’d be just as valid after the war, and if not, then there was yet again little to have left behind.

“I’m sorry, Mama, Papa,” she voiced with a tone that trembled despite her mental resolve. “I cannot leave the men and my fellow nurses. They need all the help that they can possibly get and I am one of the better medics that they currently have.”

The way that her mother’s face, with was hinted with the beginnings of what looked like hope, fell truly broke the young woman’s heart. “I see. Well…I suppose we understand, Margarita.”

“I am still your Peggy!” The eighteen-year-old’s eyes filled again with moisture as she grabbed at her female parent’s hands tightly. “I am, Mama, I am! And I will come back to you both and will be more than happy to work through all the stuff that’s been sour throughout the years. We’ll go back to being a real family again, just you wait!”

She quickly hugged both of her parents tightly, so much so that she could feel the beating of their hearts through their thick wintering coating and the sorrow they swallowed against during the embraces, and she had to force herself to remain coherent as she promised to return to them before the party ended. Margarita then quickly pulled her older sister away with in a purposeful stride similar to how she’d been tugged along several minutes before, guiding the twenty-year-old through a back exit and beginning to walk along the paved pathways toward the back of the property, where soldiers stood at attention both hidden and unhidden before the garden area and woodlands.

“I imagine she- pardon me, he- is out here?” Angelica asked in a quiet, urgent voice.

“Yes, he is,” she responded neatly. “Just let me get us through their security measures. I’m sure… _he’ll_ be thrilled to see you again.”

The two sisters remained closely pressed together as the younger let out the specialized call of clicks and whistles to alert the Patriots that she was one of theirs before they got in the most focused range of visibility, which was answered in kind by three or four men. The general over the protection of this event met them at the edge of woods and deep garden space, his face hard but his eyes kind as he gruffly delivered instructions as to where they were to wait for ‘Schuyler’, that they couldn’t make too much noise in order to stop raise alarm, etc. Angelica did let one cool comment about being the future matriarch of the family hosting when he mentioned he’d dedicate when the young soldier returned, which was quickly retracted despite how he now glared at Peggy’s big sister.

“I’ll have him retrieved for you,” he finally grunted. “Go on and don’t trip up on the undergrowth.”

As the commander went along the path to their ‘brother’, Angelica lightly nudged her and made a solemn, pronounced-with-indentions face that was a clear mockery of him. Peggy immediately giggled behind her hand before looping arms with her sister again, moving along all of the uneven terrain was no regards to grace or who may look on. It wasn’t until she snagged a long piece of trimming from the bottom of her gowns and quickly ripped it fully to tie around her wrist that she noticed her older sister’s eyes trained hard on her, her mouth visibly shaped in a smirk even through the darkness surrounding them.

“What?” She asked somewhat defensively.

Angelica simply shook her head and heaved up her own hooped skirts, quickly pinning them toward her hips with the tactical grace the younger of the two would expect from their mother. “You act more and more like Eliza by the day. That is far from an insult, don’t you think?”

“Then why look at me like I’m being a messy child?” Peggy asked as the minimal venom that had formed quickly drained from her tone.

Her sister simply grinned. “I did say you behave as Betsey, didn’t I?”

“Angelica Schuyler Church!!” She exclaimed before mischievously grinning and tackling her sibling around the waist and upper torso, sending the two tumbling back and laughing as quietly as possible.

“Angie? Peggy?” The sound of their sister’s voice, their sweet sister in a masculine tone but inimitable dialect, is what hushed them enough to send them rushing toward her.

“Phillip!!” Angelica responded as they ran, her arms thrown open and catching double disguise-clad clad nineteen-year-old like she was a small child. “Phillip, Phillip!!!”

The eighteen-year-old hurriedly pulled herself onto the other side of her two other siblings, tears freely falling from her face as they pulled taunt against each other like it was the end of their worlds. Time was irrelevant as they clutched each other, all of their tears mixing on the hems and busts of their gowns as they rubbed their faces and took in each other as though they’d never seen each other before. Even though she’d seen their ‘Pip’ before now, she still looked nearly alien with her permanently dirty skin, thickened eyebrows and face lined with stress. Even the peach fuzz that naturally grew on every woman’s face looked nearly like that of a man’s, and the upper lip hair that had to be carefully removed from the faces of most ladies was just thin and unkempt enough to seem like the beginnings of a mustache. Combined with the makeup she knew her loving sister had on beneath this new grim and the fanciful paint, she could easily be their father’s son. Of course, the wig she'd put on the slightly older lady was blonde and eloquent, and her dresses maintained her femininity, but it was far from the same.

“I hardly recognize you,” Angelica vocalized breathily. “You look…so grown now.”

“God, Angie, I’ve missed you so much,” Pip replied shakily, his voice quavering back and forth between close to her natural and her new masculine tone. “It’s been unbearable not speaking with you all regularly. I am just so glad to see you again, just in case…in case…”

“No, you will not speak that way.” The eldest Schuyler heir quickly pulled back and cupped their ‘brother’s’ face in her hands. “You will see us many, many more times as the years continue on. You will…you will be able to thrive in your achievements once this awful war has been won. Things will be more than alright, I am certain of it. Aren’t you?”

“I wish I was,” Betsey responded after an uncomfortably long pause. “I cannot begin to express to you what I’ve seen and done over the past months. The things we must be willing to sacrifice…they are nothing to shy away from if we are willing to say commit to them, I’m afraid.”

“And yet if you look to the world as though all is bleak and your life is only worth something if you are fighting or dying, then you are hardly alive,” Angelica refuted immediately. “What about us? What of your future?”

“And what if I _do_ die?” Her eyes were terribly sad as she spoke, and Peggy found herself feeling completely numb as she stepped away from her older sister. “What if this is the last time we see? I feel it is much more tragic to imagine the possibility isn’t there. I don’t want your worlds to collapse again, not on my behalf, no matter what.”

“Even if we think of it, we’ll never accept if you should perish in such a gruesome and painful way!” The twenty-year-old exclaimed sharply.

“I will have died for our brand new country!” Their sister exclaimed passionately. “There is no other way that I wish to go!”

It was in that heavy moment that Margarita reckoned that the young woman they’d known for so long was truly gone, that she’d been sharpened by the tragedies and losses that surrounded and molded every single soul leading the fighting for their nation’s freedom. It was immediately thereafter that she recognized that she hadn’t disappeared for good; rather, she was simply transformed, having come into someone more carved into their maturity, someone with sharper edges and solemn eyes, but the loving and gentle woman she’d known since the day she was born was still safely secure beneath and between those harsher layers of protection. If she was becoming completely honest with herself, she’d done the same thing for her own survival even sooner than her older sister and so had Angelica, even if it wasn’t identical to how their beloved middle sibling coped.

“You absolute blueberry, you’ve turned into our father,” she finally managed to say with a playful nudge to their Betsey. “Lightening up doesn’t mean dying every second you’re alive. Can’t you take a break from it?”

Angelica’s face was starkly somber and stricken with pain now. She pulled Peggy close to her side now, so much so that she could hear her breath hitching with the effort of not crying. For a long moment, the isolation between the two Revolutionaries and their big sister felt enormous, even as the youngest of three was held with desperate tightness to her side, and she had a feeling like bile climbing up her throat that the trio would never be alright like they were again. Their Pip looked completely a husk now, her shoulders slumping forward with sorrow and her expression crumpling into harsh, loud sobbing. The two of them immediately rushed to her again, this time on each of her sides and allowing themselves to sink fully into the filthy ground with her.

“I’m sorry,” Angie whispered brokenly, squishing Pip’s face between her hands again before pulling them both into her lap. “I’m sorry. I’m your older sister; I’m meant to protect and support you, and I’m failing you. Both of you need to be able to look to me from strength, not fear. Never fear, or-or seclusion…”

“Angelica!” The nineteen-year-old exclaimed quickly as she pulled their elder to her chest and kissed her forehead. “You’ve always been an amazing mentor, friend, ally and source of inspiration for both of us. I…I think it’s time for us to protect you like you always have us. I am begging you to let us despite all of our fears, our knowledge, and…and our losses.”

For several moments, their sister was silent. Peggy settled back on her backside fully while slipping her fingers through a hand each of her siblings, holding them in each of hers while she waited Angie’s response. Pip was absolutely certain on what she was set upon, just like she’d always been, and her bravery was something that she would aspire to be the most like for what she was sure would be the rest of her life. Sure, she was serving as a nurse and doing all that she could for their cause, but she’d been the one who wanted to do all. Now, as she held those she trusted and cared for the most, she was met with the cold realization she was quite sure she’d not have been able to handle everything that’d happened, at least not like their darling Eliza, their ‘Pip’, their hero.

“Oh, my darlings.” Angelica kissed their foreheads as she’d done a thousand times before and pulled them yet again to her chest. “Of course. Anything.”

* * *

 

It was the second day of the ball when Alexander came to her. She’d been absorbed in her own thoughts, thinking of her family and missing them despite not being apart from them physically yet again. The music was sweet throughout the night and the flowers were perfumed sweetly from the rain that’d passed only a couples ago, and she was ready to rip off the foreign dress and wig to sneak inside if only just to see her younger siblings and parents thrive and celebrate despite this dangerous, painful war. It was in the middle of all of these thoughts that weighed her conscious and filled her eyes with moisture that her commanding officer came to her, a bundle of carefully selected but clumsily fashioned together flowers in hand.

“Come on now, Schuyler,” Alexander said with a small smile. “I understand you’re working hard to keep our borders secure, but you must dance at least once. Eating the foods and admiring everyone else doesn’t make you participating in a party, and you’re nearly the only man who hasn’t switched with another.”

“Lieutenant, I appreciate your intentions, but allow me to assure you I am quite-”

“Please, save me your theatrical-worthy excuses,” he interrupted gently. “Allow me one dance, sir? At the very least, give me a few minutes of your relaxation. Maybe even your happiness, if possible.”

She wanted to say no by immediate association to his plea. It was because she was quite tired, she would remark to herself later. It was because he was a charmer and she was a young lady, after all, she’d rationalize. It was because of those eyes of his, those brilliant eyes that made the stars shine a little brighter and his soul so clear to her, those irises that had first captured her attention when they’d met the weeks before.

For whatever the reason, it was certain that Pip shared a dance with a man she admired deeply, and as the music played and the night sang along around them, they both smiled with the kind of reckless abandon they would’ve long before their ordeals began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave kudos/bookmark/subscribe/leave a comment if it so compels you! See you in the next installment! ♥


	6. Crystalized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowers can only grow where they are nurtured and welcome. In the face of one of the most bleak and horrifying parts of war, it is harder and harder for the two young Schuylers to justify what they have seen and continue forward with bravery. 
> 
> ***MAJOR, MAJOR, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS: Gore, violence, genocide, depression, sexual assault mentions, VERY graphic depictions of death for men, women and children.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS LISTED IN THE CHAPTER WARNINGS. This chapter is extremely dark and was extremely hard to write and proof-read, so if you need to stop around the halfway mark of this chapter, I will review the events of this chapter at the beginning of the next chapter. PLEASE be safe, my loves, and thank you ever so much for your love and support! ♥
> 
> I AM FINALLY DONE WITH UNIVERSITY FOR THE SUMMER. I completed my regular classes in early May, but after a long mental rest and a huge anime convention, I had two classes to take in the summer. They are both over now, and while I still won't be a writing machine, I VERY MUCH INTENT TO ESTABLISH AN UPLOAD SCHEDULE. Be on the lookout for it on my profile! 
> 
> I have an Instagram, by the way! ausernametovaguelydescribeme is where you can find my writing account, and please do not forget this story and all of my stories (particularly this one and By Degrees) have a Tumblr: stainedflowerproductions
> 
> Don't forget to heed the trigger warnings, and I hope this chapter was well worth the wait! Much love! ♥♥♥

A gloved hand snapped sharply, breaking the otherwise silence of the icy landscape. One of the men drew up his musket more swiftly than the others, taking only a fraction of a second to flush it to his shoulder before the shot broke up the quiet reverberations of his boss’s clear order.

Another man quickly made his way around the bend where the shot was fired, hauling out the two pale-faced men still ducked behind the thick grove of bushes that the bullet had just entered. By the crimson slowly beginning to soak the snow beneath the tangle of trees and brush, the musket-wielding soldier had not missed. The two men who’d clearly been sent as spies were tossed unceremoniously to the ground before the general, their remaining dignity vanishing as said boss’s right-hand man delivered a swift kick to one’s face and dug his boot sharply into the other’s back.

“The general has been so gracious to give us two more rats to play with,” the second in command sneered with a cruel smirk forming on his face. “What shall we do with these, sir?”

The captain of the impressive army working their way through the land stroked his hand across his chin for a brief moment, as though he weren’t already set in his mind for the fate of the two spies. “What are their names?”

“Hardly matters,” the commander supplied matter-of-factly before yanking the packs off of the two newly anointed prisoners.  

“You will not win against our forces!” One of the captured spit out, his face a tight mask of fury that left no room for fear. “We are not your dogs to put out of their misery! You underestimate us time and time again, but your era will be over before you can draw your battalions to order!”

“Underestimate you? My boy, we are positively entertained by you. You’ve given us plenty of practice in the field and promoted many to glory,” the cruel general mused before seizing the enemy soldier’s hair, lifting his head up as far as it could possibly go against the weight of his own subordinate still digging the man’s spine into the ground. “You are excellent target practice if nothing else.”

“You may kill me, but you’ll never kill my country,” the young man snarled defiantly. “And I will never dispel what you need to know. My secrets will vanish with me, I swear it to you!”

“Charles Lee and Absalom Davis.” The commander threw the two empty packs in the scattered mess of what had been emptied from both. “What do you say, sir? Shall we deliver a little message of our own to their men?”

Most of the men stationed at the ready behind the two leading officers immediately chortled or called out agreement for the idea of another cautionary hanging, crucifixion or beheading. The captain simply raised his hand, eliciting a reluctant hush over his soldiers, before sending his close subordinate off from his position pinning their enemies to the terrain.

“I want you to give your commanding officer a message.” The much-revered leader drew out a lengthy knife from within his layers, not bothering to move even as the two men quickly scrambled to their feet before him. “We are here. We shall not be leaving, now or ever. If you want a fight, I suggest you do more than laughable attempts before we get bored with these little games. Now go.”

The two men- Charles Lee and Absalom Davis- hurriedly exchanged glances with each other before beginning to rapidly grab their things from the snow. Another shot was fired off without explicit command, something that made the mouthier man quickly abandon his pack and begin a mad dash for the cover of the forest. Remarkably, the ever-still silent soldier cringed but not did not stop pushing his things back inside his bag, even rescuing the other pack from the terrain before racing in the direction of his partner.

“Another lives in these woods. Make sure it is not another rat,” the captain barked sharply before flagging the soldier who’d taken the initial shot to the spies and speaking more quietly. “Tell me. How many men does it take to deliver a message?”

The soldier’s face morphed into that of unashamed sadism as he readied his weapon for the back of the quieter man’s head. “ _One_.”

The fleet had barely made their way past where two enemy soldiers lay bloodied and dead when three of the captain’s men rejoined the others from another section of the woods. In one’s hand was a woman who looked hardly above her young adulthood, struggling fruitlessly against the grip digging into her unforgivingly.

“Hand-sewn clothes. A modesty cap. The flag of your people embroidered, rather sloppily as well,” the captain announced, inspiring a symphony of cruel laughter and scoffing from behind him. “It seems you boys _will_ have something to tide you until we reach our destination. I am sure this woman will be happy to lead us to her village.”

“ _Jefferson_ ,” she gasped sharply as she was forced to stand directly before him. “I-I will never speak!”

The infamous captain in question simply tutted as though she were a small child before digging his still-exposed knife deep into her neck. She writhed and gasped, unrewardingly grabbing for arms that did not catch her as she sank to the ground. The sounds of her suffocating were cut short when Jefferson’s most trusted confidante and second to command slammed his foot into her bent head, snapping her neck and causing all activity within her brain to abruptly cease forever.

“She couldn’t have wandered too far from her village, sir,” one of his men supplied as the sounds of cheering settled from the others.

“I agree.” Captain Jefferson wasted no more time, effortlessly hauling the dead and heavily bleeding corpse from the ground into the nearest wagon. “I suppose we should return her, then. Her people must be missing her so terribly by now.”

* * *

 

Logically, Phillip understood why it was ideal to rise early and place down their camp fairly late into the evening. The maximum amount of time could be met with the hours that light and darkness that did not make it unbearable to try and navigate, and the destination could be reached with enough time for one good rest before the battle begun. In practice, it was hellish, and no amount of rationality could take that from her foggy mind and exhausted body as she trekked alongside her fellow soldiers for the seventh consecutive day toward Pennsylvania.

“'Tis heaven-born freedom fires us all, and strengthens each brave son,” John led the seventh verse of ‘War and Washington, one of the unit’s collective favorites to sing.

“From him who humbly guides the plough, to godlike Washington!” She sang along proudly with her fellow men as she brushed her sweaty hair from her outright soaked forehead for the millionth time.

“Do you ever feel like cattle?” Hercules grumbled beside her, breaking her chorusing her in with the rest of the song.

“What do you mean?” She inquired breathlessly as they began yet another steep hill’s climb.

“All the marching we’re doing, and all together being led by one commander. I reckon we should chew cud next,” the tailor’s apprentice elaborated.

“Oh, come now, be rational,” she chided good-naturedly. “Do you suppose we ought to all travel at our personal leisure and attempt to regroup along the way?”

“No,” he conceded with a labored huff. “But it damn sure is tiring either way. The cause may be great, but it can be extraordinarily difficult to find motivation when you are awakened before the birds sing.”

“Hear here,” she admitted as her own breathing grew heavier.

“We will achieve our honor, riches, fame and glory,” one solider chimed in from behind them, a thought that brought a smile to her face.

“That doesn’t make this walk any less boring,” another grunted.

“We’ll raise our flags and brandish swords and win our country,” she reminded while gripping onto Hercules to avoid tripping backwards with their heavy luggage. “With such a thought it couldn’t be hard to remain upbeat.”

“But it damn sure won’t change the ache in my bones, or the blisters on my feet!” John Haslet, one of the poor fellows who took an unwitting dip when they were crossing the Delaware, grunted.

“Our breaking backs, we drop like flies, and it’s hard to think high!” Another lamented gruffly as they finally reached top of the mountainous hill.

“How about instead, we think of a lady worth fighting for!” John, seeming to be contented after finishing the song, rushed ahead and squeezed between she and Hercules while throwing his arms around them both.

“A lady worth fighting for?” Pip asked with a smirk, admittedly amused by the concept.

“A lady worth fighting for!” John repeated enthusiastically despite how Hercules snorted and pushed his arm away. “Why not? If we can do this for the amazement and glory of our fellow men…we can at least savor our future indulgence in the riches of the ladies once we return home.”

“I _have_ a lady worth fighting for,” Hercules reminded while rolling his eyes. “And she is someone I’d gladly lay my life down to protect.”

“See? This man has the right idea!” The rambunctious twenty-six-year old exclaimed. “You never did tell us about her, Herc. Why don’t you tell us what she’s like?!”

“Most of you met her at the ball!” The former tailor immediately protested as several men around them quickly joined in by encouraging him themselves or simply cheering out affirmation.

“Yes, yes, but what she’s _really_ like!” Laurens insisted. “We want to make sure our criteria for our future wives is realistic, don’t we, boys?!”

All of the men nearby, including Pip, immediately roared, “Yeah!”

“ _Fine_ , FINE!” Hercules exclaimed while rolling his eyes. “You fools better listen well now! She’s warm and kind, keeps our home nice and tidy. If she’s feeling down, I woo her with my fighting! And I couldn’t care less what she wears; she always looked fine. Something else that else that never ceases to impress is what she prepares, like beef, pork, chicken, tart!”

A longing groan of desire came from several men at the mention of extravagant home cooking, and even Pip winced at the snarl elicited from her stomach. As much as war was a noble cause that she didn’t regret taking her father’s place within, it was extraordinarily difficult to be without some of the modern luxuries that made her previous life so comfortable. She clasped Hercules’s shoulder firmly in solidarity as an unmistakable sadness misted across his hard features, but it didn’t last long as John raced ahead of them and turned to face them while walking backwards.

“Let me tell you what I’ll have in lady worth fighting for!” The enthusiastic soldier announced. “I want her sweeter than the honeysuckle that grows wild amongst the trees, with curly hair, who knows I’m quite the catch. She won’t mind my faults, or that I’m a troubled heir, cause she knows that I’m her debonair!”

“Yet I’m sure she’ll mind you’re quite out of your mind,” one of the men voiced affectionately but tauntingly. “And that in that field you couldn’t be _less_ prepared.”

“I want a girl who will marvel at my strength and admire my battles scars,” Gilbert quipped while throwing his arm around the now-sulking John. “With all the beautiful ladies in the land, there is bound to one think that I am a charmer!”

Another man picked up a fistful of snow, throwing it directly into the back of the head of a man before him. “Despite our breaking backs- AH!”

The man struck threw his arms around his attacker, lifting him up onto his shoulders briefly before tossing him grandiosely into a nearby snowbank. “The prepared attacks-”

“And all the inner problems that we have,” Hercules grunted while a couple of others pulled their friend from where he’d been chucked.

“What do we want?!” John called out enthusiastically as he reached the front of the group.

“A lady worth fighting for!” Most of the men behind him chanted as Pip rolled her eyes and hurried to retrieve her ridiculous friend with Gilbert at her heels.

“I have a girl back home who’s unlike any other,” Aaron gloated loudly from where he rode atop his stallion. The way he said it made Pip ready to knock him off the beast he rode with such cockiness, but her best friend quickly grabbed her shoulder and whispered not-so-subtly near her ear.

“Because the only woman who’d ever love him is his mother,” Gilbert said, making her choke back a laugh and Aaron snap around to glare at them, which she hardly minded.

“What about you, Alex- I mean, _Lieutenant Commander_?” John asked enthusiastically as he reached his own best comrade. “What kind of partner would you reckon you’d like after this whole affair has concluded?”

“We must reach victory first. There is hardly any cost too great,” Alexander replied stoically while not so much as casting a glance down to his friend.

“Must you be such a seek sorrow all the time?!” The older soldier immediately complained before giving Alexander a hearty slap to the backside, a notion that evidently surprised said man as much as it did the other soldiers looking on.

“Lieutenant! Control your men!” Burr hissed.

“Watch this,” Gilbert mumbled in Pip’s ear before giving the horse that Burr was atop a firm slap on the haunches, something that immediately made the stallion rear up briefly before stampeding ahead with his rider yelling out obscenities and hanging on for dear life.

Though he cast what seemed to be a disapproving look toward the others, it was impossible to miss the smirk on Alexander’s face as he turned back to face the path. “I suppose I’ve always had a thing for women with a mind of their own. I prefer a woman of honor but not of frivolous intent. Any girl who can match me in a game of wits is a lady I’d be willing to court; on that you can bet.”

Their commander then leaned down and whispered something in John’s ear, something that sent a blush across the blonde’s face as he hurried back toward his other friends. Pip rolled her eyes again and was willing to be in her thoughts alone again, but she was unceremoniously tackled by John in a manner that nearly sent her reeling to the ground.

“Hey!” She protested sharply, so much so that her natural voice slipped to the service for just a moment.

“What about you, Phillip?” Her close friend prodded with a massively coy grin. “I bet the girls back home thought you were quite a charmer!”

“They’d only like you because they love a man in armor!” Another man heckled, causing another surgency of laughter, but this time John was able to throw a large hand of snow directly into the perpetrator’s face.

“How about a woman who does what she wants of her own violation?” Pip ventured with a grin to mask how much this bold action was terrifying for her to speak out loud. “And…one who always speaks her mind?”

“Son, if you find one, you might have some fun, but that shit won’t last for a very long time,” John grunted while Gilbert loudly snorted and more men heckled her sentiments mercilessly with their own ideas of what they’d do to a ‘wench like that’.

If ever there was a doubt before that some things were better fully unknown, Pip was undoubtedly positive of it now.

“What do we want?!” John called again with reckless abandon, a notion that now sent a wave of irritability over her usual calm demeanor as the men who’d just finished ridiculing her as well as her gender in general joined in.

“A girl worth fighting for!” They chorused boisterously.

As Gilbert put a sympathetic hand on her soldier, encouraging her to give a faint ghost of a smile, the twenty-six-year old who’d started this entire chant fell back to walk at her side in order to softly say, “Glad that I have…”

“A lady worth fighting for,” Pip finished before shoving his head away in a mostly playful manor. “And don’t you forget that she is, Laurens.”

John’s mouth fell open in a frankly adorable way, and he looked as though he were about to protest when Burr returned in a hurried manner to the very front of their battalion. His face was grimmer than she’d ever seen it, something that everyone else quickly caught on to as a very noticeable hush fell over them all. Aaron quickly exchanged words with Alexander, who’d halted all of his men with one motion of his hand, then nodded solemnly as the Lieutenant’s face morphed into one of unmasked horror and his lips clearly formed questions on how serious his advisor was. Hamilton was then silent for moments that felt like hours before he shook his head decisively and ordered that they all move forward on the double, and that there’d been a terrible raid a couple of miles ahead that they had to haul ass to in order to look for survivors.

The only audible noise for the next several hundred yards was the sound of boots, hooves and wheels crunching across the snow. Pip could hear her heart beating hard in her chest, and it only seemed to grow louder and more painful in her head as they spotted the trails of shockingly black tendrils of smoke curling up against the otherwise light grey sky. As they reached the top of the last hill before the fairly large area where a known village was nestled, several men gasped, and a couple more immediately lost the contents of their stomach. Alexander turned his head as though he’d been slapped while John’s grip on his gun noticeably tightened and Gilbert whispered a mutter of distress in French. As for herself, Pip could barely snap her hand over her mouth to muffle to cry of anguish erupting from her lips as she gazed on the remains of what was once a place of life.

As far as the eye could see was unmistakable death, and the remains of horrible acts of cruelty. Buildings were destroyed and ransacked so much that they were hardly shells of what they once were. Signs, trash and debris carelessly littered the ground, which was stained in horrible variants of black, yellows, browns, and a crimson red that could only be from blood. The two churches, both of which were rather notable in size, were blazing in intimidating infernos that gave off a sickening smell unlike anything she’d ever inhaled before. All around the destruction were corpses of men, women and children, and the state of many of the women was so indecent that Pip could not help but begin to sob quietly behind her hands.

“We have to search for survivors!” Alexander barked out despite the way his own voice wavered. “Spread out, you all have your training! And be on the lookout if the red bastards dare show their faces here again!”

As the lot of them descended into the belly of the destruction, Pip was able to compose herself enough to begin carefully readjusting the clothes on the deceased women in order to make them much more presentable for whatever parties were sent to identify and bury all of these poor citizens. Seeming to catch on to what she was doing, many of her fellow soldiers- including several of those who’d previously sneered at her thoughts- began to carefully do the same, and it almost comforted her with the politeness they did as a last right. Those on horses began to ride around the perimeter of the area, calling out for those potentially still alive that it was safe to reveal themselves as they scouted for any of the lobsters who may still be lurking in the area. A couple of times there was brief gunfire, and someone called that they’d gotten one of the sick men who’d done such depraved acts, but nobody announced they’d found someone with any wisp of life still in them until they were nearly three hours into their careful combing of what was once a city.

“I just don’t understand,” Lieutenant Hamilton repeated several times at various decibels. “They were supposed to be here. My father and his men were to have been here for several days now, and he would have never allowed something like this happen. He would’ve evacuated this area before he’d witness such atrocities!”

As he concluded his fourth or fifth variation of this lament, John quickly walked up to his side and ushered for him to dismount his steed. Hercules trailed close behind, his face the mask of pained sorrow as he presented a crimson-stained sword. At first, she had only a grim, faint notion as to why their commander’s face morphed into that of almost childlike distress. As soon as she caught a glimpse of the family heirloom gleaming amongst the blood coating the hilt and blade, the realization dawned on her like a shot to the chest.

Alexander let out a quiet sound of unfiltered pain, one caught somewhere between a sob and mewl, as he fell to his knees into the anguish he felt. Given who he was, it didn’t last long, but the sight was harrowing for every man there who’d known the fallen General.

“Steer west of the eastern chapel and take a small hike down the hill,” Hamilton announced solemnly as he slowly rose to his feet again. “I want only a portion of you with me for the journey. The rest of you, take a thorough final sweep of this area and join us. If I have an inkling that you have not held the integrity of your search, you will be shot for treason. Am I made clear, gentlemen?”

“Yes sir!” They all called, the sound of their voices bouncing around the otherwise deathly quiet area and extinguishing just as quickly from their lips.

Pip was unsure if it would be better for her to tend to the fallen and check pulses, join those who were trying to cease the burning of the holy grounds to search for life among the horrors inside, or abandon it for the sake of her Lieutenant. Her heart panged agonizingly when she thought of her Alexander alone in his grief, especially as she watched him wave away John and clearly order him to stay in the village, so she swallowed her own grief and quietly joined the groups breaking off to follow their commander. This makeshift party was smaller and even more silent than when they were among the rest of their group, and nobody dared to touch or comfort their leader as they reached a small, narrow valley where at least a hundred soldiers lay fallen in broken, war-soaked clothes and gear.

“You know what to do,” Alexander said tightly.

With the same somber quietness that’d fallen over this smaller sector, they began to slowly scour the terrain for any chance of remaining life despite the hopelessness that marked it all. Hercules silently showed Alexander where he’d found the sword in the midst of this, and despite her orders, Pip could hardly bear how the Lieutenant’s shoulders trembled and he wordlessly sent their companion away. Being sure to still give a proper check to the fallen along the way, she slowly made her way toward where the heavily grieving man knelt and prayed over the unmistakably fallen general.

The closer she drew in, the more she realized that the man before Hamilton was hardly recognizable. His pool of blood was even more in width and depth than many of the other foot soldiers, and when she spotted Alexander moving to push him onto his back rather than his stomach, she let out a tiny gasp when she watched the Lieutenant sharply drop the corpse again in obvious anguish. All she could do was fruitlessly check veins for pulses that weren’t there as the adopted son of General Washington dug a makeshift grave with his hands, covering the body the best he possibly could in the ice and snowfall that would hopefully preserve it until it was shipped back to Mt. Vernon.

“I do not need assistance, Schuyler,” Alexander announced with grit teeth as she finally came close enough to nearly touch him. “Continue with your orders or suffer the consequences.”

“I am doing my orders, sir. I must check the fallen here as well,” she voiced as quietly as she dared while maintaining the integrity of her masculine voice.

Lieutenant Hamilton was quiet for a moment. “Very well.”

Pip reluctantly settled for watching her commander from the corner of her eye as he arranged the snow over the corpse of the father he’d clearly loved. His words from back in their original campsite rang in her head as she continued fixing the clothes on the men in the snow after confirming they were dead, the memory of his previous anxiety about Washington feeling bitter and mocking in the reality of so much pain and demise. She cautioned pausing her search as Alexander dug the General’s sword deep into the snow, pushing it with such force and for so many minutes that she was sure it broke into the frozen ground beneath. As she hazarded checking a man who had no arms attached to his corpse, she caught Alexander praying a final time before carefully removing his cocked hat and placing it in a symmetrical stance around the handle of the weapon.

“I was not meant to lead for this long,” the Lieutenant suddenly said in a voice just loud enough for her to hear. “I am not sure how I am meant to go on. I have no choice, and yet my training fails in the face of my second greatest loss.”

“For whatever it shall or shall not mean to you…” Pip ventured as she timidly walked to his side, even daring to lightly touch one of his hands as they were clasped tightly before him. “I am confident that you are an excellent commander. I am even more certain that your father would be proud to know you now take his place in leading this battalion of men who respect and trust you.”

“These men know little other than what I have taught them. Who is to say they are knowledgeable enough for an opponent such as the Redcoats?” Alexander scoffed with a fresh wave of pain washing across his face. “They hardly trust me, either. Just now I threated them with death, and am I meant to believe they’d follow me into a battle where we’d all almost unquestionably perish?”

“…I know that we did at the Trenton,” the young Schuyler countered with more confidence after a long pause. “And I know that we- I know for even more certain that _I_ \- would again.”

“Even if you were the only one who’d stand by my side?” Alexander’s anguished blue eyes met her dark ones, and she took a brief moment to steady her breath.

“Yes. Even if I were in the terribly unlikely situation that I was the only one.”

Lieutenant Hamilton did not speak after another tense pause, but he did release his other hand long enough to give hers a tight squeeze, and that was answer enough.

The sudden rustling of heavy fabric ended the few minutes that Alexander and Pip- Eliza- shared with its desperate hope. The Lieutenant swiftly walked toward the source of where the sound hailed, which had immediately grown silent after, and she didn’t think twice on whether or not to follow him.

“Hello?” He called loudly as he visibly scanned the clumps of dead army men. “Hello?! Is there anybody alive out there? Speak now if you are able, and signal if you are not! We have heard you and we are here to aide!”

It took nearly a full five minutes of waiting and tramping about with renewed vigor in the snow, but the rustling came again, and this time Pip saw it clearly. In an area where very few corpses adorned the landscape, there was a shape formed vaguely like another body, but it moved as plainly as the wind through a tree. She swiftly marched over to it, removing the fellow’s hat and grimacing when she noted how ashen and lifeless the man’s face was. Nevertheless, she lifted his right arm to check for his pulse, but damn near dropped it when something at the base of it clearly tugged its way back into the chest cavity. Preparing herself for some kind of horrifying infestation of creatures who could evidently survive in a tundra, she slowly unbuttoned his uniform, only to find a tiny face beneath it that gasped and hurried to pull their cover back over them.

 “My God!” She gasped, somehow maintaining her deep voice as she stumbled back.

“What is it?! Is he alive?” Alexander demanded sharply from where he was scouting nearby.

“I-it is not a man, sir!” She stammered clumsily, quickly grabbing the moving form and hoisting it until she could clearly see a mop of blonde hair within the clothing. “It…it is a child!”

“A child?!” The Lieutenant nearly froze in place before hastily and ununiformly stomping his way through the snow to her side. “That is impossible! How young is this child?! I have never known my father to employ a man under the age of twelve!”

As gingerly as possible, Pip slowly pulled the clothing out from around the violently shaking, clearly _living_ little one until she could clearly see the full locks of blonde hair and a pair of tearful hazel eyes. Said child cowered under the secretly female soldier’s gaze, her trembling growing worse the longer that she said nothing in her absolute shock. After all, it wasn’t uncommon at all for men of a draft to have families to leave behind or occasionally bring along, but a child so terribly young would never see the light of battle. If anything, the youth should’ve been hidden in the best case within the walls of their village, or stumbling their way out of the woods with their mother or other stragglers in tow.

“My Father Almighty,” Alexander breathed as he joined his baffled soldier. “And how did you get all the way out here, little one?”

“I-I’m sorry!” The poor little thing- a girl, Pip determined- stammered as she tried to sink further into the uniform. “M-my mother has died and so has my father, a-and I was s-so scared and s-s-so cold so I tr-tried to find my Daddy and th-then! Then I found him and he was h-here so I got un-under his shirts so the Redcoats wo-wouldn’t see me! I meant no disrespect to the army! Please! Please spare me!”

Alexander, clearly as baffled as she was, quickly shook his head before finding his voice. “We would never kill a child, girl. You are safe with…General Washington’s army.”

“General Washington was here,” the girl voiced timidly. “H-he said th-the…the same thing, sir.”

Lieutenant Hamilton grimaced, and Pip was finally able to break from her temporary paralysis to ensure her commander did not take out his pain on an innocent girl. “You are safe with Lieutenant Hamilton’s men, then. We will protect you until we are able to locate any other family members or trusted family acquaintances to entrust you with.”

“E-entrust with me, sir?” The poor youth ventured anxiously, to which Pip immediately smiled both in knowing and in relief that she believed her fake identity like her fellow men did.

“Yes, because you are clearly very brave,” the young soldier explained as she pulled the girl’s coats further around her. “And you are clearly very smart and resourceful. You will protect whoever will take you into their home, won’t you?”

Despite how timid and small she looked within the fallen army man’s clothes, the little girl smiled shakily and nodded once. “Yes sir!”

“Phillip. We cannot leave this man with no shirt; it is not proper or respectful,” Alexander quietly noted from where he now stood a bit away from the two. “I will have our nurses bring their wagons down and we will get her fed and looked after.”

As much as her heart panged for her to not walk after her commander as he steeled himself for the future they’d now all be facing, she was stopped when the girl threw her arms around her neck. She was clearly very small, hardly larger than a six-year-old, but her hair was down past her waist and straight but tangled with blood and grime. Aside from her tiny stature, she looked fairly healthy- at least she was not starving- and her beautiful hazel eyes had a glint about them that suggested she had an even stronger streak for surviving than even Pip was giving her credit for.

“What is your name, little one?” Pip asked kindly as she began to carry her back toward the fallen man in order to coax his blouse back on.

“Maria,” she replied while nestling her face into her neck. “My name is Maria Lewis. It’s very nice to meet you.”

As her heart warmed with affection and felt heavy with the reality of this baby’s near future, the youthful soldier couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “And my name is Phillip Schuyler. It’s quite nice to meet you too.”

* * *

 

As the tents were drawn up and the men began to drink for the evening, Peggy was hard at work with the other nurses to make little Maria Lewis as comfortable as she could possibly be in the given circumstances. Aside from the uniform coats she was adorning when they got her, she was in a filthy shift as well as two thin petticoats with threadbare sections where stays were meant to be. As they bathed the poor child and brushed her beautiful hair until it shone, they learned that she hadn’t been discovered by the Redcoats; rather, she’d hidden in the attic of her church until she smelled the burning, then ran out of the previously sealed backdoor before more soldiers arrived to shoot anyone who attempted to flee from any of the exits. She’d found her father after hiding in a snow drift for what felt like forever, choosing to hide within his clothing while the army finally retreated and went on their way.

“And when did all of these things happen, little one?” One of the older nurses asked as she braided the girl’s blonde locks into a beautiful, intricate braid.

“They left sometime early this morning,” Maria replied softly. “I was sure I’d die before help came, but you did come! Lieutenant Hamilton and Mister Phillip saved me.”

“We’re very glad that you’re alright,” Peggy said kindly, gently smoothing some of the baby hairs from the top of her head. “You are such a brave girl.”

Immediately, the eight-year-old’s face lit up and she grinned with the pure trust that came from childhood. “Really??”

“Yes, really!” Peggy agreed enthusiastically. “I guarantee you that I would have never been able to do as well as you did! You kept yourself alive when all the odds were against you, and that’s very impressive. We’re all very proud of you, I can assure you of that.”

“That means a lot, ma’am!” Maria chirped while holding her new doll, which was made by tying the top of an old flour sack off to vaguely resemble a head, tightly to her chest. “My mama and papa will be so-”

The girl cut herself off abruptly, the joyous look vanishing as quickly as it’d come. The nurse who’d braided her hair wrapped her arms around the child and brought her into her lap comfortingly as many of the others dispersed to tend back to the wounded in the other tents. Peggy took care of bandaging their walk-ins from the day’s events before slipping to the other side of the large makeshift curtain that had been put up as a sort of barrier between the front and back of the main tent that Maria was to stay in. Throughout the search of the village, only four had survived to see the Patriots with the girl included, and it was fairly clear at least two of them were hardly clasping to their lives even after being warmed, fed and changed.

“Hello there,” she called carefully, unsure if she was speaking to their corpses even now. “How are you all holding up? Can I get you anything?”

“Water…” One of the survivors, an older man called Amos, croaked miserably as he shivered violently on his pallet. “Water…please…”

“Right away, sir,” she quickly assured, picking up the pitcher and pouring a flask to be around half full before holding it to his lips. “Here, you can put your head in my lap…There you go! You’re doing great, sir, thank you.”

“Susanna!” The only woman survivor cried out suddenly, her plump body thrashing back and forth so violently that the other man let out a pitiful moan of protest. “SUSANNA!”

“Ma’am! Ma’am, it’s alright!” Peggy swiftly took her hand and gave it a tight squeeze as she attempted to hold Amos’s head upright and give him water at the same time. “Ma’am, it is only a night terror. Please, know that is alright now. You are safe.”

“They killed her!” The woman mourned as she let out several tearless sobs and shrieks of anguish, ones that the young Schuyler knew would likely haunt her for the rest of her days. “THEY KILLED HER! They took my baby! They took my baby, they took my baby!”

“I understand, ma’am-” She began.

“YOU DON’T KNOW! They strung her up and beat her like she was a dog!” The woman continued to shriek as more nurses hurried in. “My baby! SUSANNA! SUSANNA, they took my baby, they took my baby away-!”

After that, she continued to let out several sharp, soul-shattering shrieks until she was rolled off of her side and onto her back. She grew very quiet and still after that, so much so that it was hard to tell if she was still alive, but the nurses tending to her simply changed her gown again and allowed her to rest with another thin pillow beneath her head. Peggy’s hands trembled as she finished giving the contents of the flask to Amos, who quietly thanked her before she readjusted him to be a bit more comfortable.

“They did kill her baby,” the old man remarked as she carefully retucked his feet into his blankets. “They did, sure as the sun rises and falls in the sky.”

“Y-yeah?” The eighteen-year-old prompted uneasily, sure she did not want to hear any more details he had to offer but not wanting to be rude.

“Yes.” Amos then took a pause, one so lengthy that she was about to leave him to rest before he began talking more clearly. “She was always a pretty girl. They took her boys and shot them with the others first. They wanted all the young ones who’d give them trouble to go first, you see, because the damn bastards knew they could be hurt by a bunch of vengeful boys. Then, they took their pick of the women. Susanna was too little, so they strung her up in the church while they…they attacked her mother over to the side. By the time the bastards got off of her…Susanna was long dead.”

“And…how do you know this?” Peggy asked reluctantly.

“I was the preacher. Nothing that goes on in the church gets past the preacher,” Amos replied with a pained, knowing smile before it ran away from his face. “Such a waste. Such a damn waste.”

“I under- I know, sir,” the young woman sympathized softly as she fought the tears forming in her eyes at the sheer horrors of what they’d all seen.

“I want you to promise me something, Margarita.”

At the utterance of her name, the young nurse jumped and made sure to listen even more carefully. Most of the men who came through the flaps of the tent didn’t bother to learn any of their names, either calling them some patronizing, undignified pet name or simply by ‘Nurse’ until they either perished or went on their way. For someone who she’d met only a few hours prior to remember hers without any hesitation was impressive and heartfelt, and she was determined to give all she had to this gentleman regardless of whether he lived or died. It was the very least she could do in the face of a man with so much horror etched into his mind as well as so much wisdom and faith from his position as a church leader.

“Yes sir?” She asked.

“Come closer,” he whispered.

Though she very rarely did so (after a rather horrendous trick was played by one of the curious soldiers so he was able to ogle at her chest,) she made an exception and leaned down toward his face. “I am here, sir.”

As he spoke his next words, his pale blue eyes locked with her own light ones, and she had to catch her breath silently as she listened intently. “If you ever get a chance…to avenge the people of Saratoga, New Jersey…I want you to promise me that you will. Promise me that you will, but only if you should truly mean it.”

“I…I promise,” Peggy replied with conviction. She would not be a Schuyler if she were not set firmly on the path of what was right, and she now knew for certain that she’d connected with Amos somehow in a way that the others had not in the short span they’d met in.

Amos now smiled again and leaned his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as he exhaled a deep sigh. “Excellent. Thank you, Miss Margarita.”

“It is my pleasure, sir,” she replied with a sincerity she rarely had for the other men. “Please get some rest now. It has been a very long day.”

Once she was certain that he was asleep and that the other two were not in any obvious distress, she made her way outside. The cold of the night bit into her layers and skin, and she found it hard to imagine surviving so long in such harsh conditions, especially if she was still little Maria’s age. As her thoughts grew murky with fatigue and emotions from anger to guilt to grief, she made her way aimlessly around the campsite, carefully rekindling the fires blazing around the men who’d already passed out thanks to the liquor. She was grateful to find her sister in the midst of somber faces and reeking smells, but as soon as they made eye contact, it was clear that Pip’s soul was as unrestful as her own.

The two siblings wordlessly made their way toward the ends of their campsite, sitting together silently after assembling a meager fire to keep themselves warm. Pip sat with her knees brought up to her chest, her face partially buried in the fabric of her trousers, which Peggy internally remarked she’d done since they were both much smaller. As for herself, the younger Schuyler tucked her legs around to one side and held herself as they both gazed forlornly into the flames crackling desperately against the chill of the night.

“Maria is only eight years old,” she finally voiced after several minutes. “And she managed to stick out weather like this with no fire or resources. Can you imagine?”

“No,” Pip replied, though not immediately. “I reckon I’d have been killed for mouthing off or not hiding well enough. To curl up with your own dead father…”

The silence re-enveloped the two of them again after that, which was admittedly alright with Peggy. She thought about telling her big sister of what she’d heard from Amos, and her own fears newly formed after seeing what the British were willing to delight in doing, but the words died before she so much as parted her lips. She knew her loving sister would take it all to her heart and assume responsibility by either worrying endlessly or trying to talk her into signing off from the war effort, and that was simply something she would not allow to be brought up at this point. They’d both seen far too much, and they both had promises they had to keep. It was better not explicitly said, and yet she still wanted to offer some semblance of comfort in the face of so much hurt to the only family she had for absolute certain.

“We will see to it that all of the sacrifices made were worth it,” Margarita finally said with more confidence than she truly had. “For the Revolution.”

A wisp of a smile played on her sister’s face before vanishing, but as the two simply sat with each other in their processing of both the past and the future, it was enough for Peggy. “For the Revolution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt me in a lot of ways to say the least. Remember that a much less graphic summary will be provided at the beginning of the text in the next update, which shall be sooner rather than later! 
> 
> Please remember to leave kudos/share/bookmark/leave a review if it so compels you, and thank you so, so much for making this my most viewed/loved story! ♥


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